Poppet
by Digitallace
Summary: Harry hates Draco, pure and simple. However, Draco creates a Harry voodoo doll and uses it to show the other boy how love and hate can be easily confused. In essence, seduction by voodoo doll. Birthday fic for Ragnarok45. Takes place post war during 7th y
1. Where there is a will

**Authors Note:** This story was written for my friend and beta Robert, who is turning 18 on the 30th. I'm very pleased to present him with this birthday gift and hope he likes it! It started life as a oneshot, but quickly turned into a short story and will probably be around 5 chapters in total. Many thanks to my beta's Laurel and Shannon!!

The title was inspired because of its double meaning, one as a term of endearment and two as another term for a voodoo doll.

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It was fate that brought him past the tiny fading pink doll shop that afternoon. Fate that made him stumble on a broken cobblestone and nearly fall, catching himself with one pale hand on the store's windowsill.

The face of Harry Potter stared back at him, grinning and proud, holding his wand aloft as his famous scar stood glaringly apparent against his sun-kissed skin.

It wasn't actually Harry Potter, of course, but rather a likeness of him in doll form. They were being sold in various wizarding shops since the war had ended, along with Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley sidekick dolls and jumpers emblazoned with idiotic catchphrases like 'I watched Harry Potter defeat Voldemort and all I got was this lousy tee-shirt'.

More annoying than the fact that they bothered selling these things was the fact that people actually _bought_ them.

He couldn't go anywhere without seeing Potter's face following him, from dolls and tee shirts to the cover of magazines, he was everywhere. He dealt with it better than he had expected to and mostly ignored the pomp and circumstance, but that day was different.

Draco had just recently picked out a new book from his father's library. He was allowed to choose one book on dark magic per year and study it as much as he wished throughout the year before having to return it and choose another. Everyone thought that Lucius merely relied on dark arts for his magic, but he never allowed Draco to focus on dark magic over light, and believed that a well rounded wizard was the most powerful wizard.

Normally this would have meant nothing and Draco would have gone about his way, cursing the stone that tripped him and sneering at the store clerk that stepped outside to check on him, but the book he chose from his father's secret collection just three days before made all the difference in the world.

Fate is funny that way.

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The Great Hall was filled with the chatter of students as they ate breakfast and talked of the previous night's activities, or who had done what class assignments, and even occasionally about the war. The summer after Harry defeated Voldemort had been one of Harry's most difficult times, going from funeral to funeral, all the while trying to avoid journalists and his growing sea of new fans.

It had been with a heavy sense of dread that he agreed to go back to Hogwarts and complete his final year along side all the others that who missed the year during the height of the war. His fear was unfounded however; as he boarded the Hogwarts Express he was greeted with the same amount of awe mixed with casual intrigue he had been shown in previous years.

Apparently the summer had rid them of their fascination with him and they had all moved onto more relevant topics.

He was thrilled to find out that the majority of the students had moved through the mourning phase, gotten over the exciting chatter about the boy hero and his daring feats and they were just as eager to put the entire ordeal behind them as Harry was.

It was promising to be the most boring year he would ever spend at his beloved school, and Harry couldn't be happier about it.

Except for one minor detail.

"Harry, really," Hermione chastised. "Have you even heard a single word I've said?"

"Sure, sure," Harry replied noncommittally, his attention was otherwise occupied on a certain blonde Slytherin who was talking animatedly with his housemates.

"If you keep staring at the ferret your eyes might catch on fire, mate," Ron teased.

Harry merely huffed and violently sliced into his crepe. "I just can't believe McGonagall would let him come back," he muttered angrily.

"Harry, we've been over this a thousand times since the term started. Yes, it sucks, yes he's a slimy git who doesn't deserve a second chance, but he got one, and now it's time for you to get over it," Hermione lectured severely. She had heard about enough of Harry's whining about Malfoy to last her a lifetime and didn't understand why Harry couldn't just be happy to be alive and not under Voldemort's rule.

Ever since they arrived and saw Draco, one of the few Slytherin's to attend Hogwarts for their makeup classes, Harry had been practically stalking the boy, trying to figure out what dastardly plan he was concocting and informing Ron and Hermione of his progress, or lack thereof.

Ron, in one of his brief moments of perceptiveness, noted that Harry needed a cause, and if one didn't exist, that he may well just make one up. Ron hated Malfoy just as much as the next Gryffindor, but even he could see a change in the boy since the war that was seemingly lost on Harry.

Harry sighed in frustration and took a bite of his breakfast. "I just don't understand. I've been watching him at meals, watching him in class, and even making sure he's not out wandering the halls at night-"

"Like you?" Hermione interrupted with narrowed eyes.

Harry simply ignored her and pressed on. "But I can't figure out what he's up to."

"Maybe that's because he's not up to anything," Ron offered logically.

"Malfoy is always up to something. You two didn't believe me last time either and look at what happened," Harry scoffed. He knew it was an unfounded argument. Draco had been up to something, but he now knew that Dumbledore would have died regardless of whether or not he had caught the Slytherin earlier. Still, the boy had managed to cause a great deal of havoc by letting Death Eaters into the castle.

Hermione and Ron knew this as well and chose to ignore Harry's dig. "Have you finished your potions homework?" she asked, changing the subject to something more palatable, for _her_ at least.

"Nearly," Harry replied.

"Harry, really! It's due in an hour," she reprimanded. "You're letting this obsession with Malfoy ruin your marks."

"I'm not obsessed with him," Harry protested. "And what's Slughorn going to do to me? I'm his favorite," he boasted.

"I thought you said you wouldn't be using your status as Voldemort Defeater to help you gain special treatment," Ron warned.

"This is hardly the same thing. I was Slughorn's favorite before the war," he countered.

"It seems like the same thing to me," Ron muttered, still a little envious of his famous friend.

"It's my fault," purred the delicate voice of Harry's girlfriend, who had caught the end of the conversation as she walked over to sit beside Harry. "I kept him up rather late last night," she added with a wink toward Harry.

"Gin!" Harry exclaimed, ignoring Ron's groan. "Good timing as always." Harry was happy to dodge the minor argument, though slightly less happy to see Ginny.

She had in fact kept him up very late the night before, but not the way she alluded to. Right after the war, the two began dating and things had gone brilliantly until she pressed him to take the next step and he suddenly found he couldn't. He had fantasized about his first time with Ginny, but when it came to it, he just wasn't able to get aroused for the actual act.

The first time, though mortifying, had at least been easily explained away as nerves, and the second time explained away as performance anxiety after failing the first time, but after over a dozen attempts to make love to his stunning and effervescent girlfriend, Harry began to wonder if there was much more to it than nerves.

For her part Ginny had been a pillar of understanding, going so far as to tell Harry that she loved him no matter what and that she wouldn't tell a soul that he was incapable of getting an erection.

Although, that wasn't entirely true. Harry had in fact woken up on several occasions, each time after cloudy erotic dreams, with his sheets soaked through from mysterious erotic dreams he was having most nights lately. He kept this information from Ginny though, so as not to hurt her feelings. It was obviously someone else that he dreamed of, though he could never remember who by the time he woke up.

As she practically crawled into his lap, Harry tried to focus on her, and not the laughing table of Slytherin's. It was no use though, for he could hear Draco's distinctive voice like a bell across the hall and honed in on it naturally when he heard his own name.

Harry looked over to see Malfoy staring up at him, his stormy eyes gleaming with some mischief still unknown to Harry. With a mocking smirk the boy raised his palm and after pressing is lips to his own fingertips blew Harry a kiss, sending his Slytherin friends into a bout of uproarious laughter as they clapped him on the back for his minor torment.

Something about the act, however, rankled Harry more than it should have and his face flushed a deep crimson which made Draco's friends laugh even harder. Not Draco though, no he seemed content to just continue watching him from across the room. Harry felt stuck, drawn by Malfoy's turbulent eyes to keep meeting his gaze until Malfoy broke his trance with a wink. Harry blushed even harder at this and swiftly turned away to try and absorb himself in whatever mundane conversation was happening between his friends.

"Would you just bleeding ask her already?" Ginny ordered her brother.

"I have!" Ron shouted, clearly not happy with being ambushed. "She said no."

"I said no because you asked me out of obligation, not because you wanted to," Hermione huffed.

"All I said was that since we were sort of dating, maybe we should show up at the ball together," Ron corrected. "What's so bad about that?"

"Very romantic, Ron," Ginny chastised.

"Exactly," Hermione agreed and went back to her studies.

"What are you guys talking about?" Harry asked distractedly. Even though he was no longer looking at the Slytherin table, it felt like Draco's mocking eyes still followed him and it took all of his willpower not to look up to see if he was right.

"The Yule Ball, which I might add you still haven't asked me to, Harry James Potter," she criticized.

Harry cringed at the use of his full name. He hated when Ginny did that. She was doing it more often lately and it made her sound just like Mrs. Weasley; he felt like a little boy about to be spanked. Part of him wondered whether it might be better to look up at Malfoy again and let him continue to wink and blow kisses at him, anything to keep from having this conversation.

"Ginny," he began, clearing his throat to try and buy himself some more time. "Would you like to go to the dance with me?" he asked with all the gentlemanly charm he could muster.

"I would love to," she cooed, batting her eyelashes demurely and winding her arm around his shoulders, planting a kiss on the corner of his lips.

Without thinking Harry let his eyes flick over to Malfoy for just a moment and he noticed that the boy was frowning at his and Ginny's display of affection. Before he knew it, he was kissing Ginny squarely on the lips, making his tongue flick across her bottom lip, all the while knowing that Draco was watching the show.

"Hermione, would you like to go to the dance with me?" Ron asked, jarring Harry out of his lapse of reason.

She only laughed harshly at him and got up from the table. "You'll have to do better than that! You can't just copy Harry, Ronald," she scoffed before storming from the great hall in a huff.

Ginny leapt up and followed her, blowing Harry a kiss as she left, a kiss that did not make his face heat up like it had when Malfoy did it. Harry assured himself it was just because she meant it, whereas Malfoy was just being a prat.

Ron looked at Harry in dismay, his shoulders slumped and his fork only scooped up half the food it would have normally which indicated something was very wrong. "I never know what to do," he complained. "She's always upset about something, and no matter what I say, I just seem to make it worse."

"Welcome to the world of dating, mate," Harry chuckled.

"Ginny is far lower maintenance than Mione though," Ron countered. "I mean, at least she said yes."

Harry shrugged, thoroughly disagreeing with Ron's assessment, but he could hardly gripe about how bitchy and pushy his own sister got. "Maybe you should do something special for her. It's Hogsmeade weekend this weekend, maybe you should take her somewhere nice and ask her then?" he suggested.

Ron nodded and grinned. "Thanks mate, maybe I'll take her to Madam Puddifoot's."

Harry cringed at the name of the tiny teashop he had taken Cho to for their Valentine's Day date, but nodded all the same. Maybe Hermione would find it romantic rather than repulsive as he had.

"We better get a move on, don't want to be late to Potions," Harry offered, scooping up his books and sparing one last glance toward the Slytherin table. A shiver ran down his spine as he realized that Malfoy was still watching him, his cold eyes trailing him out of the room.

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Draco stretched along his green velvet sofa. It was _his _sofa, the one he had claimed on his first day at Hogwarts and no one, not even any of the seventh years, ever dared challenge him for it in all that time. He had spent most of his school career untouchable simply because of who his father was and how his family was favored by the Dark Lord.

Things had changed drastically since then.

The Dark Lord was no more and his father had little favor with anyone these days. Still, Draco's position at school hadn't changed _too much_ since he returned, the major difference being that he had far less minions to boss around.

Out of his personal bodyguards, only Goyle was left. Even Pansy had been sent to Durmstrang by her grandmother for her final year after both of her parents were sent to Azkaban for their activities in the war. Thankfully Draco hadn't needed to worry as much as he did for the same fate was not thrust upon him. Someone somewhere was still loyal to his father and got the entire lot of them off scot-free. He imagined the same thing must have happened when he was a small boy, back when his father pretended to have been under the imperius curse at the time of Voldemort's first rise to power.

He sighed as he thought of his diminished influence in wizarding society and then Potter's gleaming gemstone eyes. The two were always correlated somehow; in fact, there wasn't an iota of his existence that couldn't somehow be pinned to Harry Potter. It was both frustrating and intriguing. It made him curious to find out how much of Potter's life could be pinned back to him.

He didn't need to wonder for long, however, as deep down he already knew the answer and had since their first day of school. The truth of it was that Draco mattered very little to Potter, and that fact infuriated him. Draco didn't think it was fair that the raven-haired Gryffindor could have such an affect on him, while the opposite was true for Potter.

He wished he could change that fact but even causing a scene as he had done that morning at breakfast, had no effect on the hero whatsoever. That's not to say it was a totally useless gesture. Seeing Harry blush had been worth the effort.

It wasn't until he passed that dreadful doll shop as he made his way to the castle from Hogsmeade station on their first day back that he realized there might be something he could do that _would_ affect Potter.

He had read page after page of the book he had borrowed from his father. It was called_ '__Tools of the Bokor, and Other Vodou Talismans'_ and Draco absorbed it like a sponge as he memorized each passage and finally he thought he might be ready to enact some of his new knowledge.

Draco consulted his pocket watch and confirmed with a quick look around the common room that everyone should have gone to bed. With careful and silent movements he got up from the sofa and paced toward a small armchair until he stepped on a floorboard that creaked and gave under his foot.

He knelt down and pulled the edge of the rug up and pried the board loose. He reached into the crevice below and pulled out the items he had been carefully and secretly gathering for more than a month now.

As he pulled each of them from his secret cubby he checked them off his list. A branch of holly and a branch of hawthorn, four mallowsweet leaves and a dozen sage leaves, a stargazer lily picked on a full moon and a lock of thick black hair all sat next to him on the floor as he replaced the plank.

He pulled the last two items from his robe pockets, one was the book he had borrowed from his father's collection and one was the doll with the likeness of Potter that he had bought from the doll shop in Hogsmeade that first day. It had been a task to purchase it unseen by any of the other students, but once he had it the doll never left his sight.

With careful and practiced motions he set his tools around him. The art of vodou was more akin to ritual magic than the kind of magic modern wizards used on a daily basis, but the magic of a ritual was much stronger than anything you could conjure with a wand because it needed intent, not just muttered words, swishes and flicks.

He lit the leaves of both plants on fire and let the fumes clear his mind so that he could focus more completely on the Gryffindor he wished to ensnare.

Draco concentrated on his victim as he picked up both branches, pulling away the exterior bark, peeling back the fibrous strands of each and wrapping them around the doll like rope. This bound his wand to Harry's and vice versa, but with the hawthorn on top, Draco would be the controller of this particular magic.

Then he carefully tucked the brilliant pink and white lily into the folds of the rope, as a symbol of purity and innocence, as well as Harry's mother's namesake, it would prevent Draco from doing any harm to the Gryffindor he coveted.

It was a fairly last minute decision to include the flower in his ritual, but he thought it prudent to make sure he could never get too carried away with his fun.

The last, but certainly not least, part was to add the lock of hair. It had been nearly impossible to secure the small piece from Harry's own head. Harry would have never willing let Draco have it of course, thus Draco had to sneak into enemy territory and into Harry's bedchamber to snip it off while he was sleeping.

Getting in hadn't been terribly difficult, just a stolen password and a few placating words to the fat lady, but once he was there he found himself dumbfounded by Harry's peaceful and angelic form as he slept in his oversized burgundy bed. Draco just wanted to crawl in with him and sleep there beside the attractive boy.

It was a hard revelation for Draco when he discovered that he was in fact infatuated with Potter. Once he acknowledged it though the logic seemed simple enough. Malfoy's were always drawn to power, and who was more powerful than Potter? It certainly didn't hurt matters that the Gryffindor was always in top physical shape, had that messy 'just rolled out of bed' hair and those soul searching green eyes.

He found that prying himself away from the sleeping beauty was much harder than sneaking in, but he managed to get his lock of raven hair all the same and as he twined it with the rope and flower he felt the magic of his ritual complete.

As the doll's eyes began glowing an otherworldly green, Draco knew that Harry was now completely at his disposal, and he couldn't wait to test his new toy.

**Authors Note:** The challenge was: Harry hates Draco, pure and simple. However, Draco acquires/creates a Harry voodoo doll and uses it to show the other boy how love and hate can be easily confused. In essence, seduction by voodoo doll

Random things to include: strawberry ice cream, a pocket watch, snow, apples, scorpions, and a blender.

I have only included one of these keywords in this chapter, but they will all be used within the course of this story. I hope you all enjoy it (Robert in particular) As always there is a header for this fic on my yahoo group which you can find the link for in my profile. Please join, I love lots of readers! (I'm greedy that way!!)


	2. With Great Power

Authors Note: Many many thanks go out to my brilliant beta's Laurel and Shannon. Laurel has recently finished a brilliant H/D fic and you should all go read it. You can find it under her profile (DreamingInColour) Wow. 30 reviews for one chapter!!! You guys are awesome!!

Chapter 2 With Great Power Comes Very Little Responsibility

Harry's boots made loud crunching noises in the powder white snow as he made his way toward Hogsmeade with Ginny at his side. All things considered, it had been a peculiar week for him.

Tuesday morning found him waking from the most erotic dreams he could ever recall having, but the subject of them remained a mystery. This continued every morning for the rest of the week followed by breakfast in the great hall with Ron and Hermione. While he ate he couldn't seem to pull his attention from Malfoy, which was not an unusual pastime for him, however, just like Monday, he found Malfoy watching him just as intently.

During random times of the day he would became inexplicably aroused and have to rush off to the loo to relieve the pressure he felt building up. Sometimes he would swear he felt someone touching him, feeling phantom fingers caressing his skin and causing gooseflesh on his arms and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. But it was impossible that someone was petting him fondly, as clearly no one was near him and Harry began wondering if the war had snapped a tiny fragment of his mind away and if it would just get worse until he was committed to St. Mungo's where he might share a room with Neville's parents.

Even more frustrating than his progressing insanity was the fact that still, at every meal, Malfoy would be there, watching.

It made Harry so angry and he didn't even know why, but he was vaguely aware of the fact that his recent behavior was slowly but surely driving away all of his friends.

As he strolled through the glittering white snow lining the trail to Hogsmeade he reached over to take his girlfriend's hand, but felt suddenly compelled to release it and shove his hand back in his pocket. Ginny looked up at him with confusion written all over her face, but Harry had no words for her. Something inside of him just couldn't seem to touch her.

It had been that way all week.

It had started at breakfast earlier in the week. Ginny had come to the great hall – late as usual- and sat playfully in his lap, that was until Harry, in a gesture he didn't think he was even capable of, practically threw her off by getting up and moving down the expansive bench closer to Ron.

All he could do was look down at her angry red face as she sat on the floor where she landed.

He tried to apologize but his mouth had snapped shut, his lips sealing together to prevent him from uttering a word. Ginny had merely huffed, and stormed from the great hall, followed by Hermione.

"Harry mate, no one likes seeing her sitting on your lap that way less than me, but you could have just asked her to get up," Ron lectured before following Hermione.

Later that day Harry was able to apologize, and luckily Ginny forgave him, but not without punishment. To make it up to her he had promised to take her to Hogsmeade on a date that coming weekend which was why he was traipsing along beside her now, making his way to Madam Puddifoot's teashop.

He winced as he stepped inside the cramped little shop. He thought the shop looked slightly less tacky decorated for Christmas rather than Valentine's Day where instead of glittering golden cherubs, there was mistletoe hung from the ceiling above every table.

"Oh look Harry, mistletoe," Ginny cooed, pointing out the twig and berry plant hanging above them.

Harry smiled and leaned in, about to press his mouth against hers in a tender kiss when instead he simply stuck out his tongue and blew her a raspberry.

His eyes widened in shock at his own actions and he promptly felt the sting of Ginny's across his face as he realized that he had ruined things yet again at the terrible little teashop, but worse than that he had also ruined things with his girlfriend.

"What in Merlin's name has gotten into you, Harry?" she asked, her face a mixture of anger and concern.

Harry sighed and shook his head, unable to find a good excuse for his actions and not wanting to sound ridiculous by telling her he didn't mean to do it, so he remained silent while she examined him closely.

"Does this have something to do with Draco Malfoy?" she asked. This was one of the only things Harry had not been expecting her to ask.

"What? No, why would you say that?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Do you think I'm dim, Harry?" she asked, her arms folded angrily across her delicate frame.

"No, but I don't understand what this could possibly have to do with Malfoy?" Harry replied honestly. He had been watching the smarmy git for weeks and nothing indicated that he was up to anything.

"I was there, remember?" she hissed.

"Where?" Harry asked, still completely confused.

"I was on your lap Monday morning at breakfast when you got… hard," she whispered, looking suddenly shy.

"When I… what?" Harry replied, taken off guard at having to think back to that morning.

The morning Malfoy blew him a kiss, the morning Malfoy winked at him.

Suddenly his face began to heat up anew and Ginny shook her head. "That's what I thought," she muttered.

"What!?" Harry asked, near to shouting in the small room. "What did you think?

She sat back in her chair looking hostile, but also a tiny bit sad. "I thought at first it was my presence that made you react that way, but then I looked at your face and your eyes were all for Malfoy."

Harry tried to protest, but she raised her hand and shook her head to prevent him from saying anything further.

"Then you seemed to refocus on me, even asking me to the dance, so I figured I was just being a paranoid idiot, but all this week you've been avoiding me, keeping your distance, you won't even touch me," she whispered.

"I don't mean to," Harry rushed, but was silenced with a glare.

"Just be honest with me, Harry. That's all I want. I promise I won't be mad if you just tell me the truth. I'll be hurt, but I can forgive you," she said, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"I _am_ being honest, Gin," Harry pleaded.

"Are you fucking him?" she asked suddenly, her face heating up and the tears finally spilling onto her cheeks.

"No!" Harry shouted. "Merlin, no, Ginny. I hate Malfoy!"

"There is a fine line between love and hate, Harry. I think you might have crossed over," she spat.

"I swear, Gin. I've never touched him; I never even _talk_ to him. You have to believe me," he begged. It wasn't even a matter of saving his relationship anymore. He saw now that it was over no matter what he said, but he needed her to understand the truth, that she was breaking up with him on unfounded charges.

"I've seen you, Harry. I've seen you sneak into the boy's toilets several times a day, always looking over your shoulder to see if someone was following you, always in there for ages," she hissed lowly as if appalled that she would ever have to be so forthright with Harry.

A bark of laughter escaped his lips at the absurdity of her accusations and suddenly the conversation took a vicious turn. It was true, he had often needed to pull himself off in the loo this week, disappearing for long periods of time to do so, but how could he explain any of that to Ginny? How could he make her understand that it had nothing to do with Malfoy when he had no explanation for why it did happen?

Finally he sighed in defeat, his exasperation at their constant bickering coming to a head, and got up from the table, not even able to meet Ginny's gaze. "Think what you want, Gin. But I haven't been with anyone, I'm still a virgin for Merlin's sake, and the fact that you would refuse to believe me speaks volumes."

Her mouth fell open and she looked conflicted between telling him to sod off and apologizing for being too hasty. Harry let her silence wrap around him and he gave her one curt nod. "I think we're done here," he whispered before leaving the tiny teashop for what he hoped would be the last time.

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Potter was a virgin? Well, wasn't that interesting?

Draco had been listening to the entire lovers' spat, most of which had been orchestrated, or at least initiated with his voodoo doll.

It was almost amazing the ease with which he could wield it, the things he could make Potterdo with just a whispered command or a loving touch. It was as if Potter wanted to obey it as much as Draco wanted him to.

It had been worth it really, all the trouble he had gone through to get the ritual just right, it had all been worth it in the end to have Potter as his poppet.

That ugly display with his girlfriend in the Great Hall on Monday morning had set Draco's heart on fire, and he refused to witness it again, but this… this turbulent break up of theirs based on accusations so ludicrous and untrue; even Draco could not have predicted that.

Sure he would have loved for it to be true, for Potter to be sneaking away from his girlfriend to enjoy steamy trysts with him. It would have been perfect. But clearly that wasn't the case, loathe as Draco was to admit it, Potter was no fonder of him than he had been on the first day of school.

Finding out that even the fiery redhead had not been able to bed Potter filled him with a sense of purpose and fear. Would the stubborn hero ever want him in the same ways as he fantasized? Was he really so unattainable, so pure that he was virtually untouchable? Was he a prude, shying away from any and all kinds of sexual intimacy or has he just been waiting for the right person. Perhaps he was waiting for some mysterious blonde Slytherin, the man of his dreams, to whisk him away?

Draco shook his head, trying to clear the ridiculous thoughts from his mind.

No, Harry Potter was not meant for him to have, only to borrow, and only through his likeness, the tiny doll he kept securely in his robe pocket at all times.

Draco thought little of the basket of apples on the Slytherin table until Harry Potter walked into the room and sat at the Gryffindor table in just the right place for those apples to block Draco's view of him. It was if he knew the sneaky blonde was watching him, or as if the apples themselves had predicted Potter's mood and knew that he would prefer to sit where the sunlight could cast a faint blue shimmer to his hair so they deliberately placed themselves there to block his view.

He could remember a time when he had thought the Gryffindor hero's hair unkempt and perhaps even rough to the touch, though when he skulked into the lion's den to steal a lock of that wild mane, Draco found different.

The raven hair adorning his rival's head was smooth like silk, pleasantly soft, and it curled around his fingers as though it wanted to be caressed, as if Potter'shair had a mind all its own. How he longed to run his fingers through the Gryffindor's ebony locks with his permission, and not as some nighttime stalker while his victim lay fast asleep, completely unaware of Draco's looming affection for him.

Logic reasoned that he should leave the apples alone. He needed to let his mind think on other things instead of constantly being preoccupied with Potter, but he just couldn't seem to let it be. He roughly shoved the basket aside, feigning distaste for their odor and aligning things in his favor once more.

Two weeks had passed since Potterand the she-weasel's breakup and the entire school was well aware of it by now. Potter continued to sit beside Weasley and Granger at every meal, but no longer did the fiery redhead implant herself on his lap, or even at his section of the table; instead she sat at the other end flirting with the likes of Finnegan and Thomas.

Draco was only mildly surprised that Ginevra's reasoning behind breaking things off with Potter -or vice versa depending on how one looked at it - never surfaced. Clearly the youngest Weasley was hurt and annoyed, but she was still a Gryffindor at heart and if Draco knew anything of their kind, they were loyal bunch. She would have never betrayed what she thought she knew of her former boyfriend, though even if she had she would have found herself wanting.

There was no evidence to link him with an obsession with Harry Potter, he had made sure of that, and certainly no reason for anyone, save Ginevra to suspect Potter had feelings of a romantic nature for him.

It made him curious though. What had led her to believe Draco was the object of Potter's desire and not herself? There had to have been sufficient evidence to that effect to make her draw that conclusion. Although girls were a notoriously silly bunch, known to glean things from a topic that were never there and always reading too much into any given word or emotion.

Still, it made him wonder what words or emotions Potter had betrayed to make her see such a falsity?

He remembered her mentioning the morning that he had taunted Potter with a kiss and a wink across the Great Hall, but thought little of it at the time. Surely she had been right in her initial assumption that his gaze and his erection were unrelated, but the thought that they were not intrigued him to no end.

Late at night he would imagine Potter reacting to him in such a way, imagining that a mere look from him could make Potter hard, but he knew deep down that it was impossible. If he could steal even a small romantic moment with Potter it would be a miracle, but a bond like that runs much deeper than a brief tryst such as he might one day attempt with the boy.

He both hated and loved Potter; he wanted to build him up and he wanted to destroy him all at once. The conflicting emotions within him were in a constant battle and he was never sure which would be the victor, which would leave with all the spoils and which would slink away inside of him never to be seen again.

Most of him rooted for the destroyer, but only for the sake of self-preservation. He knew that Potter would have no compassion for a fallen former Death Eater and if his love for Potter prevailed over his hatred, than he would be left a retched leper trying to always claim something that would never be.

He couldn't have that. His weakness for Potter was enough; he couldn't let his entire soul become absorbed by the hero.

Harry walked to class sandwiched between his two best friends, who were fighting once again, or rather _still_ as the case seemed to indicate.

It seemed his fight with Ginny had ruined things for both their relationships. Ron, who had been planning a very sweet lunch for he and Hermione at Madam Puddifoot's arrived with her there shortly after Harry had exited the same shop. As soon as Ginny spotted Hermione she leapt upon her, tear strewn and distraught over her breakup with Harry and monopolized her completely while Ron busied himself flicking bits of scone across the table into empty teacups.

Ron hadn't been able to formulate a new plan to ask his girlfriend to the dance and so Hermione was still alternating between acting as though he didn't exist and biting his head off at random.

He hated it when they squabbled and he wished that they would either get over it already or break up and be done with it, though the repercussions of that option made him shudder slightly as he knew he would be placed in the center and forced to choose between his two best friends.

As they made their way to the dungeons for potions he felt a slight chill down his spine and turned to glance quickly back down the corridor to see Malfoy trailing a few paces behind him. He shot the boy a sneer that was unsurprisingly returned with a smirk and continued though the open door where he took his seat between the still angry Hermione and the ever confused Ron.

Draco sat in his chair at the back of the potions classroom watching Potter talk quietly with his friends. He'd been carefully resisting the urge to use his secret weapon in public, but the draw to actually watch his machinations on Potter in person was just too impossible to ignore.

Carefully he slipped the doll from his robe pocket and placed it in his lap, focusing on the connection he had built with it. He ran a cool finger along the length of the doll, just testing to see if he had achieved the desired bond, and was happy to note the almost indistinguishable shiver that ran down Potter's spine.

It wasn't the first time he'd wished the doll had been made anatomically correct. Still, there was a significant bulge there, as no doubt the creator of the doll assumed that their hero was well hung.

Placing the doll inside his textbook, he raised it just enough to keep it out of site as he blew a breath of cool air over the doll's body.

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Harry shivered again, this time his whole body shook, which made Hermione look at him with narrowed eyes, no doubt thinking he was purposefully trying to distract her from the lesson.

"Is it cold in here?" he asked Ron, who just shrugged in response. Harry tried to banish the gooseflesh on his arms and continue taking notes. A moment later he felt a flushing heat travel across his entire body and pool in his groin. He tugged at the collar of his shirt trying to get the cold air that had been assaulting him just moments ago back again to sooth his rising temperature.

"Alright, Harry?" Ron asked, watching him quizzically.

"I don't know what's wrong," Harry whispered. "I'm freezing one minute and boiling the next."

Hermione shushed him viciously and turned back to the front of the class while Ron swallowed thickly and - apparently not wanting to argue with Hermione again - did the same. Harry hated it when she took out her anger on him, but he couldn't concentrate on her misplaced emotions because of a bubbling desire, which was making him lose focus on everything else.

Only a few minutes later Harry felt as though someone was sliding their hands up his legs and resting them gently on his thighs while blowing hot air right onto his cock. It was both electrifying and embarrassing as he realized he was getting a very rapid erection in the middle of class, all the while he sat in the center of his two best friends.

This had been happening off and on at the most random times for weeks now and Harry was no closer to understanding what was going on with his body than when it had first happened. But never had it been so extreme or in such an awkward public place.

He tried to nonchalantly push at his erection to make it less conspicuous, which only earned him an odd look from Ron. He then tried to ignore it, but his arousal continued to build making his erection more painful and more obtrusive.

Staring up at the ceiling, he tried to think of every non-erotic thing he could, Quidditch, Professor McGonagall, Ron, puppies, giant man eating spiders and even Draco Malfoy, none of these things helped erase the feeling of hands groping him and working him to completion.

It was the oddest sensation and he couldn't explain it, nor could he think of a way to talk to Hermione about it, which was probably his only way to find out what was happening to him. No doubt she would have a perfect explanation locked away in that brilliant mind of hers from a book she had read over the summer or some such nonsense, but he could hardly tell her about it could he? 'Hermione, I feel like someone is having invisible sex with me' didn't sound very sane at all, let alone a topic he would broach with his female best friend.

Harry had to clamp his lips shut tight to keep from moaning as the pleasure took hold of him and rode him, all the while sitting in class trying not to writhe and scream out. As the orgasm rolled over him he gripped the edge of his desk tightly, a small chunk of it breaking off in his hand, but still he couldn't suppress the sudden moan that escaped his lips. He blushed furiously, trying to turn the mean of pleasure into a cough, earning him yet another quizzical look from each of his friends before the feeling of pleasure and embarrassment began to subside and he could take a deep breath and focus again.

No one was paying him much attention and it appeared he had gotten away with whatever had happened, but his trousers were soiled; he would have to get to a restroom right after class, or at least a private place where he could magic away the mess.

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A permanent grin was plastered on Draco's face as he watched his favorite toy writhe in his seat while Draco gave him an orgasm better than anything he was sure Potter would have experienced. Even from his seat in the back of the room he could see the faint flush to the boy's cheeks and he imagined he could hear his whimpering cries. He was even more pleased that his stubborn victim hadn't been able to hold onto his control and Potter's wanton moan still echoed in his mind.

He felt a small victory in his ability to secretly affect the Gryffindor hero and from his spot at the back of the classroom he could imagine himself being able to affect him the same way in person, though the chances for that were slim to none.

No, Potter was not attainable to him in that manner, nor, if Draco really thought on it, did he want him to be.

There was little doubt that the real flesh and blood person was, in fact, nothing like the image people had of their savior. The fearless and all-powerful boy who killed Voldemort was probably just a lucky coward and it would be most disappointing to discover that for himself.

Or so he needed to make himself believe.

Draco would have to be content pretending that he was wielding a mighty power, being able to control someone as perfect and untouchable as the great Harry Potter.

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Authors Note: The challenge was: Harry hates Draco, pure and simple. However, Draco acquires/creates a Harry voodoo doll and uses it to show the other boy how love and hate can be easily confused. In essence, seduction by voodoo doll

Random things to include: strawberry ice cream, a pocket watch, snow, apples, scorpions, and a blender.

I used pocket watch in the last chapter and I used two more in this one. I'm eager to see what everyone thinks of this new installment!


	3. Feelings of Helplessness

Authors Note: Many thanks to my uber brilliant beta Laurel. She's a lifesaver with her notes and corrections (or at the very least a chapter saver) You should go read her work as well, you'll find it under the screenname DreamingInColour in my favorite authors. We've started a joint fiction where we'll alternate between Harry and Draco's POV, she'll be taking Harry and I'll be taking Draco. Should be entertaining to say the least. *grin. We'll start posting it after the new year.

Chapter 3 Feelings of Helplessness

Harry woke up to the feeling of lips around his cock.

He kicked frantically at the blankets to try and throw off his seductive attacker, but just as in Potions class there was no one to shove away. The sensation progressed however, and it seemed to matter very little to Harry's body that there was no logical explanation for him to feel soft hands caressing him, or hot lips on his flesh.

His back arched from the bed as the phantom mouth continued to lick and suck at him and in a moment of bliss inspired terror, he cried out his orgasm, clutching the sheets while waiting for the invisible touches to fade, as they always did.

With a startling motion the curtains surrounding Harry's bed ripped back and Ron's face hovered in the gap looking concerned and then suddenly mortified as he quickly shoved the curtains back into place and cleared his throat loudly as Harry pulled his blankets up over his soiled trousers.

"Mate, you know the rules. You're supposed to use a silencing charm if you need… er… privacy," Ron stuttered.

Harry was exceedingly grateful for the set of thick burgundy curtains in between him and Ron. "I'm sorry mate, I just woke up from a weird… dream… and forgot," Harry lied, still unsure as to how he could explain the odd phenomenon that continued to follow him everywhere he went.

"I don't need to know!" Ron barked, not in anger, but from embarrassment.

"It was so realistic," Harry muttered distractedly, not really talking to Ron, but rather reliving the deep ache of desire he had awoken with.

"Stop," Ron protested. "Really mate, I don't want to hear it."

"What?" Harry asked, drawn out of his musings by Ron's urgent protest.

"If it was about my sister, I really don't want to hear about it, and if it wasn't… well, I'm in a difficult position either way," Ron muttered, sounding as if he was walking toward the door.

Ron had assumed that Harry and his sister would get back together and that their fight was akin to arguments he had with Hermione on a fairly regular basis, but when weeks passed and neither party seemed particularly interested in a reunion, he had to finally admit that Harry would never be his brother in truth, only in theory.

"Ron," Harry called out, but his petulant friend didn't answer, and when Harry pulled back the curtains he saw that he was suddenly alone in the room. Ron had been deftly avoiding the subject of his sister since their breakup, which was typically fine by him until Ron decided to storm away, have a tantrum or just otherwise ignore him altogether when the subject _did_ pop up.

He felt like he was letting his friend down somehow by not dating Ginny, but regardless of how long Ron kept his distance, the longer he stayed apart from Ginny, the more certain he was that dating her to begin with had been a mistake.

Though he didn't need nor want to think on his recent break up with Ginny, not when he had more troublesome thinks to think about. Now he only had to figure out what this new menace on his life was, this new ghost that haunted his body, controlling him and forcing him into things he had never before experienced.

"Now what we have here is an Albino Draconic Scorpion," Hagrid announced as the students filed into the large forest clearing, chattering and pointing at the ominous looking monster beside the Care of Magical Creatures professor.

The beast was large, nearly coming up to Hagrid's knees, and with its pale armored stinger raised into the air; it was taller than even Hagrid. Its shell looked like mother of pearl, glistening in the dappled sunlight trickling through the trees, which stood out in stark contrast to its beady crimson eyes and massive dangerous looking pincers.

The creature skittered around beside the professor, taking great interest in the young crowd of gawking students and turned then to Hagrid, who nodded after a moment.

"Can anyone tell me what the name of this here creature means?" Hagrid asked the class.

Hermione raised her hand at once and the professor nodded to her, as if he already knew she would be the first to respond. "Albino clearly refers to its coloring and lack of pigmentation, and Draconic means 'like a dragon'," she answered stiffly and then stepped back, not wanting to be too close to the creature.

"Good, good Mione. And would anyone like tere take a guess at how this creature is like a dragon?" Hagrid asked, looking around at the waiting class, but no hand shot into the air, not even Hermione's.

"These scorpions possess a trait tha's often shared, but not well known, in most if not all dragon species," Hagrid added, giving the students a hint. He scanned the crowd once more until he called on Ron, who had reluctantly raised his hand.

"My brother Charlie once told me that older dragon's can control your mind," Ron muttered while staring at his shoes.

"Tha's right," Hagrid boomed happily and Hermione beamed at her boyfriend, clearly proud of him for having the correct answer. "Well, it's mostly right anyhow."

"Yeh see dragons have lived for ages longer than any human, and their minds work differen'ly from ours. They're able to project images and speak tere us using their advanced mental telepathy and can sometimes even _influence _someone's thoughts. They don' often use this trait on humans, but all dragons have the innate ability to connect with other minds, to create an unbreakable bond between themselves and another. It's how some of them find their mates," Hagrid added as an afterthought before patting the giant armored creature at his side.

"The Draconic Scorpion can do the same," he said before pausing, seemingly listening to the scorpion's silent words.

Harry tried to slink to the back of the group without being noticed, as Hagrid seemed to love calling on him first to pet or feed or ride his often dangerous creatures. As he moved backwards he accidentally bumped squarely into a warm solid body behind him and whirled to find himself nose to nose with Malfoy.

"Watch it, Potter," he drawled, but there was not the usual venom in his voice that Harry was used to hearing.

Harry just rolled his eyes and tried to move away, but Malfoy grabbed his wrist roughly and pulled him close. "You really ought to pay attention, Potter. This lesson is fascinating," he whispered against his ear, causing Harry to shiver.

With a rough yank, Harry freed himself of Malfoy's grasp and moved as far away from him as he could. Something about the touch seemed far too familiar, far too… well, nice, and as he moved away he caught the brilliant smirk and the shining eyes of his enemy and shuddered.

Malfoy was definitely up to something, and, for the first time since their breakup, Harry began to wonder if there wasn't something more to Ginny's assumptions. Perhaps his two pains – the sudden loss of control and Malfoy's constant presence – were in fact related somehow.

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It was folly that made Draco summon Potter to his common room. Folly, and a craving for a strawberry milkshake.

He knew it was foolish, even as he wielded the doll that took Potter from his warm feather bed and down to the kitchens. He knew this single brazen act could be the one that spoiled everything and made Potter aware of his secret control over him. He knew this even as he watched through Potter's eyes as the strawberry ice cream was pulled from the icebox. He knew, even as he forced the Gryffindor to spoon three scoops of it into the waiting blender – a machine Draco had only heard rumors of and was pleased to learn that Potter was familiar with- and pour the whole milk over the entire concoction and mix it together.

Certainly it wasn't beyond his own capabilities to go to the kitchens and fix his own milkshake. he had indulged his late night cravings on his own long before he had his poppet, but Draco saw it as a challenge and he was never one to resist a challenge.

He was noticing more often, particularly since their run in during Care of Magical Creatures the week before, that controlling Potter was becoming more difficult. Not everything, but some things, even mundane tasks, were taking more effort for Draco than they had before.

Sexual exploits were still the easiest and were virtually unchallenged by Potter, which typically worked just fine for Draco. It seemed that Potter was either so inexperienced that he didn't know how to fight against Draco's machinations, or he simply didn't want to.

Draco would have liked to think it was the latter, but truth be told he suspected the former, especially after his declaration to Ginevra before they broke up.

He felt the cravings burn within him still, both the craving for sweet strawberries and the craving to control Potter's body right into his bed. It was impossible to think such a thing would work though, and even his loose Slytherin morals didn't allow him to contemplate the option of forcing Potter into sex.

At least not for very long.

He was pleased to find that his experiment was working though, and Draco found his Potter puppet to be unusually receptive to his demands tonight. As he walked into the common room to find it empty save for a tall fluted glass containing his strawberry milkshake, he felt a wave of victory and satisfaction flow over him.

Draco's thirst for domination over the Gryffindor and his midnight snack cravings were both quenched with a single act and he went to bed sated, deciding to wait and see what the fallout from his reckless behavior would be in the morning.

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It was a Slytherin, and Harry knew if there was one Slytherin who would do something to annoy, injure or even potentially kill him, it was Malfoy.

He had been almost excited to feel the familiar whisper of another voice in his head. Normally it was a low erotic moan buzzing in his ear, but this… this was a direct command, and Harry was happy to follow it.

Part of him felt compelled to follow the instructions given because it was ordered of him, but the rest of him wanted to see where it would lead him.

It led him to the Slytherin common room; at least it ended there, after Malfoy was done making him play house elf. He wanted to stay and confront Malfoy but something inside of him made him turn away and go back up the stairs to Gryffindor tower. Still, he knew who was behind his recent strange behavior now and he would make Malfoy pay.

It was with this in mind that he stormed up to the vile boy during their free period in the library. Malfoy was sitting at a table by himself reading a thick tome and paying no mind to his surroundings when Harry took the seat across from him.

"Is it a spell?" he asked right off, ignoring any pleasantries. His abruptness genuinely startled Malfoy and the boy nearly jumped from his skin.

"Is what a spell?" he asked, holding the place he was reading with his thumb and looking at the spine of the book.

"What you're doing to me, is it a spell?" Harry asked again.

"I'm not doing anything to you, Potter," Malfoy replied, a mischievous glint in his cool gray eyes.

"You can let go of the ruse now, Malfoy. I know that you're behind this somehow, so you can either come clean, or we can take it up with McGonagall," Harry spat.

Draco rolled his eyes and let his body lounge gracefully in his chair, while Harry pretended not to notice how easily the boy rebuked his threat. "And what exactly would you tell the Headmistress?" Draco asked smoothly, a smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth.

"I…" Harry began before realizing he didn't have a good response and suddenly he wanted to strangle the infuriating git. Harry realized Malfoy knew all along that he would never feel comfortable talking about it with anyone; in fact, he had counted on it. His forehead creased heavily as he frowned at Malfoy's smugly triumphant grin.

"Perhaps you merely have a secret admirer," Draco offered with a knowing look, and Harry blanched.

"What… you… but," Harry stammered, not understanding exactly what the Slytherin meant by his comment. Did Malfoy think of him romantically? No, that was impossible.

There was no way a pureblood aristocratic wizard like Draco Malfoy would ever feel the need to venture outside the realm of arranged marriages and sound pureblood matches. He was obviously only trying to throw him off the trail he had been leaving behind to prevent Harry from discovering the true reason behind his actions.

Harry stood up abruptly, making Malfoy blink in mild surprise; quite frankly Harry was happy to get any reaction out of Malfoy's typically stony façade. "I'll be watching you," he warned as he turned to leave the library.

"I'm counting on it," Malfoy called after him with a wicked chuckle.

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Harry paced the warm fire lit expanse of the Gryffindor common room as he waited for the last students to go to bed. He preferred to be alone most of the time, and even the smattering of first and third years sitting in front of the fire who ignored him completely was too much company.

After a while, they finally ventured up to their own dorms and Harry lounged on the sofa in front of the hearth. Nothing had occurred in two days, ever since his talk with Malfoy. He thought maybe he had warned the boy off until suddenly the arousal gripped him worse than ever in the Great Hall at dinner that night.

He recalled how his eyes had immediately flicked up to where Malfoy sat, looking smug as ever as Harry shuddered and was forced to flee the hall before another orgasm took him in front of the entire student body.

It was humiliating and embarrassing, yet it felt so good that a part of him never wanted it to stop. That part of him, a very tiny, whimpering and weak part of him, was crushed into nonexistence as he threw himself into a broom cupboard in order to ride the pleasure out in private.

He wasn't even able to get to his own quarters, as soon as the doors to the Great Hall shut behind him the arousal doubled and then tripled as he felt hands and lips roaming his body, pulling his hair and penetrating his body.

All at once he felt both violated and more turned on than he ever had before; he didn't know what Malfoy was doing, but he knew he both needed it to continue and needed it to stop all at once. It was driving him slowly insane that he was not able to control his own body and he wondered what Malfoy was playing at.

Was he trying to drive him to distraction so that he could get away with some sinister plan? Did he just want to torment him until he finally snapped and had to be committed? Or was he merely playing games with him in revenge for winning the war?

Harry whimpered and fell to his knees, clutching an old grungy mop for support as the feeling of warm hands around his cock made his legs wobble beneath him. With a scream he let the orgasm take him as it rolled over and through him.

He took a deep shuddering breath as the waves of pleasure died away and he spelled away the mess on his robes once more. He was starting to become a pro at cleaning charms.

Harry recalled how he had to sneak out of the cupboard and up to his common room; he remembered the concern on Hermione's face when she greeted him at the portrait hole, pressing her delicate hands to his face forehead to feel for a fever. "Harry, you're flushed," she cooed, her expectant eyes waiting for an explanation that Harry couldn't give.

Those same chocolate brown eyes met his now as Hermione stood at the top of the landing, looking down at Harry with sisterly concern. "Harry," she whispered. "You've been distant tonight."

"I have a lot on my mind," he replied, making room for her on the sofa. Even though he didn't want an interrogation, he knew Hermione always got the information she craved one way or another, so there was no use fighting her on it.

She sat beside him and ran a small hand through his violently messy locks. "Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to hex it out of you?" she asked, only partially teasing.

"I think Malfoy is trying to seduce me," Harry admitted without further prompting.

He was surprised at how easy the declaration fell from his lips and he laughed at the absurdity of it, which was a relief to Hermione who was trying to stifle her own giggle.

"What does that mean?" she asked at last, knowing that there must have been something to his statement.

Harry sighed and curled up against her. "I'm not sure. He's been… doing things to me… but I can't prove it, and I don't even know how he's doing it so I can't make him stop."

"What kind of things?" she asked, her eyes narrowed in thought.

"Er… sexual things," Harry muttered uncomfortably, partially hoping to Merlin Hermione hadn't heard him to save him the shame, but also hoping she had so that he didn't have to repeat it.

Was there even a single emotion he didn't feel conflicted about lately?

"Like rape?" She asked, suddenly frantic, but Harry's eyes went wide and he shook his head.

"No, no, he never actually touches me… it's just a feeling," Harry amended.

"Awake or sleeping?" she asked clinically after she had calmed.

"Both," Harry replied, happy that she was taking a very professional route to his diagnosis. She would make an excellent Healer one day.

"Hmm, is he around when it happens or not?" she asked.

"Both," Harry admitted.

"Very curious," she mused to herself. "Do you enjoy it?" she asked suddenly, taking Harry off guard.

"What? No, I mean, no!" Harry replied, rather too quickly and much louder than he had meant to.

She narrowed her eyes again and seemed to file it away for later processing. "I'll have to think on it," she said at last. "I'll help you figure this out though."

Harry smiled in spite of himself. He knew Hermione was good on her word, and if anyone could figure out what Malfoy was doing to him it was her.

Authors Note: So I used the last of the keywords given in the original challenge. Blender was the hardest, but I think I made it work. lol. Strawberry Milkshakes to all who review.


	4. Yule Ball

Authors Note: A million thanks to my beta Laurel. I'll miss her while she is away!! OH! AND, last week she threatened to count up my cliffhangers and brandish them all in my face for me to feel guilty over, but she's done one even better, she wrote a funny little oneshot about me and my stories. You can find the link on my profile, you should all check it out, it's very VERY funny!!

Chapter 4 Yule Ball

Weeks of research and nearly every book from the restricted section of the library yielded nothing in the way of ideas as to what Malfoy was up to.

At first Hermione suspected it to be the Imperius curse, but the fact that the effect was only intermittent didn't work well with that theory. That didn't sway her however, and she began researching spells that worked in a similar manner to the Imperius curse until all those avenues were exhausted and she was forced to give up on that line of thinking.

She distractedly fingered her necklace, a new locket that Ron had given her with a tiny note inviting her to the ball with him, and reread the passage she had just been scanning on possession, thinking perhaps that Malfoy could be using it to influence Harry's body or decisions.

She quickly ruled it out however, since one of the parties would need to be dead, so unless Malfoy had secretly died in the war and she thought there was little possibility of that being the case, much to her dismay- that theory was just as unlikely as the last. It would make things so much easier if Malfoy were just to cease to exist.

The Yule Ball was only days away and she wanted to get this solved for Harry before Malfoy did Merlin only knew what to him in such a public environment. Given his past attacks on Harry, however he was doing it, it was clear he preferred public displays over private ones and it didn't get much more public than the Yule Ball.

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Draco tried on his dress robes which were composed of a thick shimmering gold with brilliant crimson inset that contrasted nicely with his pale platinum hair. The inset was an intricate series of Celtic knot work that wove in and out with a silken thread that shined bright or dark depending on how the light hit it.

The similarity to the colors of the Gryffindor House was planned. He almost refused the idea outright when it came unbidden into his mind because of the sheer lack of subtlety in the gesture, but this was for Harry, and Harry responded easier to the blatant and ostentatious over subtle every time.

Draco was usually better at veiled scheming though and he hoped his flagrant show didn't do more damage than good.

A special pocket was constructed inside the robes, which would hide his poppet well throughout the dance. He was happy to have mastered the art of the voudou enough that he could control Potter with just a thought rather than having to physically manipulate the doll. Some of the things he had done to Harry would have been impossible if he had to have physically done them to the doll, unthinkable really.

Still, he did have to keep the poppet within a certain range, he found the closer it was to his body the better, so he continued to carry it with him always. It served to benefit him in two ways actually; it kept the doll out of other peoples grubby unworthy hands while also allowing him to tap into the magic of the doll whenever the whim struck him.

His obsession with Harry had marked him deeper than he ever could have imagined and his craving for the boy drove him to do the most unlikely things. Just last week he bought the Gryffindor hero a gift that he was sure would go unappreciated, but he felt compelled to purchase it regardless.

It was a simple amulet, mostly a deep tarnished silver with a shining golden inlay of a phoenix on one side and the initials A. P. W. B. D on the reverse. Now it could have been a ridiculous acronym for some odd group such as Academy of Potions, Wands, Boggarts and Dentistry, but Draco assumed it was actually Dumbledore's initials. The old Headmaster had the longest name of anyone Draco had ever met aside from his own great grandfather Abraxas Liam Tweed Edward Malfoy Esquire.

Draco had no idea how the amulet had come to be in that tiny antique store and he managed to practically steal it from the clerk who sold it to him for only eight sickles, clearly unaware of its origins or value. All the same he felt compelled to buy it for Harry, although he had no idea when the mood or opportunity would arise for him to turn over the piece to his potential love interest's more than capable hands.

However, it was the fact that he had been so compelled to purchase the bauble in the first place that made him nervous. What was supposed to be controlled experiments in domination and general fun had by all was quickly turning into something more. He dreamed of Harry more often, he thought about him constantly during the day and when he wasn't using his poppet to control the testy Gryffindor he was thinking about what he could do with the heady power.

The magic, it seemed, while working his will on Harry, managed to work its own will on him. Each new command or gesture he used the doll for made him feel closer to Harry than ever before. He was losing sight of his original plan of slow seduction and instead just trying to barrel through to his desired outcome.

Harry.

What was worse was that he continued to slip up and accidentally think of him as 'Harry' instead of 'Potter' and he couldn't seem to stop himself. He was fairly certain he would trip up eventually and say it out loud to someone.

He did a quick turn in the mirror to examine his reflection then, once satisfied; he slipped out of the elaborate costume and padded toward his bathroom for a long soak before his eventful evening.

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Harry flew over the castle grounds on his Firebolt like a mighty and graceful hawk seeking out his pray. He swooped down and wove in and out of the trees, and dipped even lower, letting his hand skim along the surface of the mirrored lake.

He didn't want to stop, didn't want to come down, not now… not ever.

In the sky he felt completely free of the stress of class work, Ron's negligence, Ginny's persistent gaze and more importantly, Malfoy.

He didn't understand the kind of blatant disregard for another human being it would take to do what Malfoy was doing to him but he felt like if anyone was capable of such a heartless act, it was Malfoy. It felt as though Malfoy was taking a precious piece of his soul with every new encounter and he was fairly certain he would never get them back.

Wanting to avoid the crowds of simpering teens fawning over makeup and dress robes in the common room, Harry instead chose to fly directly to his dorm window at the top of Gryffindor tower. He had it unlatched with an easy wave of his wand and was soon inside the silent warmth of his room.

With his broom put away, Harry began to disrobe, rubbing his icy flesh as he did to thaw it from the winter chill.

It was then that he spotted it.

A flat rectangular silver box lay in the center of his bed. It had an ornate gold ribbon crisscrossing its front and a small note written in delicate handwriting that simply said _'wear me'_.

Harry smiled in spite of himself at the quirky gesture and, feeling very much like Alice through the looking glass, he opened the box out of sheer curiosity.

A bark of laughter escaped his lips upon seeing the contents. Inside the filigree were dress robes, well tailored and very expensive looking. They were almost entirely green, a shade of deep emerald in one light and a darker almost forest color in another light. Upon the breast was a pattern of silver knots woven into the fabric and trailing down the length of the garment.

Harry sighed and slipped the silky robes over his already naked body, relishing in the cool fabric as it glided over his wind burnt skin. He took one look in the mirror and knew who the culprit was behind the outfit. Only a Slytherin would take pleasure in dressing the Gryffindor Golden Boy in head to toe green and silver and only one Slytherin that he knew of had it out for him directly.

Frowning, he lifted his arms and found that the fit was perfect and, though not a color he would dare pick out on his own, it made his eyes glow with an almost otherworldly brightness. He took off his glasses and laid them by the bedside and, after casting a quick vision charm that Hermione had taught him over the summer, he looked at his reflection again.

Something about the clothing felt right, and not the false right brought on by bespelled items, but the kind of right that he felt whenever he held Teddy or hugged Hermione or played Quidditch with Ron. That feeling scared him more than the potential purpose of the robes or the fact that he didn't actually know the intentions behind the gift.

He couldn't even begin to guess at the intention behind the robes. He had recognized Malfoy's handwriting from the start, and even if he hadn't, the garment exuded Malfoy in its very thread count, not to mention the silk took on his fragrance, a mixture of lilac and sage, with a hint of something tangy and puckering like lemon.

If Malfoy's intention was to humiliate him, however, he would not give the arse the satisfaction.

He took a deep breath and stared at himself in the mirror trying to see what Malfoy saw, trying to glean some sinister reason for Malfoy to give him the robes, but he found nothing. The clothing was beautifully made, they seemed to be tailored just for him and on the surface there was nothing sinister about them.

In fact, if given to him by Hermione or even Ginny, he might not have batted an eyelash, but a gift from Malfoy took closer inspection. However, after several advanced curse locating spells Harry still could not detect anything unseemly about the garment so he decided to throw caution to the wind and wear it, just to see what happened.

When he emerged from his dorm the common room was empty, which was just as well because he would prefer to sneak into the Great Hall unnoticed.

As he made his way down the stairs to stand before the looming double doors of the hall, he took one final deep shuddering breath before pushing them open.

A large portion of the room turned to look at him as soon as he entered while others turned to look after whispers flooded the hall at his entrance. He heard his name float through the air as it fell from hundreds of lips but before he could decipher _what _was being said about him, Hermione and Ron were at his side.

"Harry you look outstanding. I didn't even know you owned dress robes this extravagant," she gushed. Hermione, who wore a sleeveless black gown with a heart shaped bust line that tailored into a neat little empire waist and flared down to the ground, ran her hands along the fabric, eyed Ron's plain black dress robes and sighed.

"You look like a Slytherin," Ron commented with a frown and Harry only shrugged.

"They were a gift," he replied simply and walked further into the room.

"A gift from whom?" Hermione asked, with slightly narrowed eyes.

"I have my suspicions," Harry said vaguely, as he finally caught sight of the sneaky Slytherin standing in a corner by himself.

Their eyes met across the crowd and Harry couldn't have pulled away from that smoldering gray gaze even if he had wanted to - and at the moment he didn't.

He parted from Hermione and Ron, the latter looking very confused and the former looking slightly worried, and headed straight for Malfoy as if he were a moth being drawn to a light.

Suddenly they were only inches apart and Harry could feel the gaze of the entire school on the back of his neck as Draco took his hand and led him to the center of the dance floor.

"I know you're doing this Malfoy," Harry whispered through slightly gritted teeth.

"Doing what?" Malfoy asked coolly as he guided them around the floor on graceful feet.

Harry assessed him then and noticed his own robe coloring for the first time. He had been too preoccupied with his eyes before to even notice the crimson and gold of Malfoy's robes. "What are you playing at?" Harry asked, feeling confusion wash over him.

"You're really going to have to be more specific if you expect me to answer. You'd be rubbish at interrogation if you ever really chose to become and Auror," he answered snidely.

Harry huffed and looked around briefly at the hundreds of eyes following their movements on the dance floor. He felt the weight of Malfoy's palm in his hand and his other pressing firmly against his waist. "You've been controlling me and I want to know how, and why," Harry stated firmly.

"Are you being controlled now?" Draco asked, his delicate blonde eyebrows floating into his thick and stylish blonde hair. Harry frowned and searched himself for that familiar feeling he would get when he was being controlled.

"No," he answered finally.

"Yet here you are, dancing with me," Malfoy said with a smile that made Harry shiver. "Why do you think that is?"

"I want answers," Harry demanded at once, though there was a part of him that didn't want Malfoy to stop touching him, that wanted to be there with him right then, holding his hand and gliding across the dance floor.

Malfoy remained silent and Harry moved to pull away, but Malfoy simply whispered _'stay'_ and he felt as though he had no choice.

His hand clung to Malfoy's but now he could feel the familiar tingling in his flesh from whatever magic the Slytherin was wielding over him forcing him to stay at his side.

"Let's start with the 'why' then shall we?" Draco answered at last and Harry felt the magic dissipate until it was only his hand inside of Malfoy's once again. "I want you, Harry."

Harry blanched at the words, both at the idea of Malfoy wanting him and at Malfoy calling him by his given name. Both seemed utterly outlandish and impossible.

"Rubbish," Harry replied. "Tell me the truth."

"That is the truth. I've always wanted a piece of you, but it's only recently that I've decided that I want all of you. I need you, Harry," he continued, his voice sounding a little strained and fearful as they circled the dance floor in perfect unison.

"Do you ever think of me as anything besides your enemy?" he asked.

Harry shook his head immediately. "No. Never."

"Liar," Draco hissed. "We can't play this game if you're going to lie."

Harry rolled his eyes, but finally nodded. "Fine. I might. But so what? It doesn't make things any different."

"Just think about it. We'd be the perfect companions, both strong and clever, both powerful and not to mention good looking," he added with a wink. "Tell me it doesn't interest you."

"Tell me how you're controlling me and I'll give you your answer," Harry bartered, but Malfoy shook his head.

"No, you'll take the power from me and still turn me away and then I'll have nothing," he replied with a firm yet sad smile.

"Is it not worth the risk?" Harry asked.

Malfoy seemed to think it over and he paused them in mid step, a deep frown set into his forehead. "No, not yet. There is not enough to gain at the moment. You'll find a reason to deny your attraction to me," he answered simply. "But you'll see soon enough, and when you do, I'll tell you, I'll even give the power up… but not until you can see me the way I see you."

"And you think that will happen if you continue to molest me in public?" Harry asked with narrowed eyes.

"Would you prefer I stick to molesting you in private then?" Malfoy asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Harry looked past him, no longer wanting to meet his penetrating gaze. He guessed that he was blushing, but hoped he was wrong. "That's not what I meant."

A knowing grin blossomed across Malfoy's face and Harry found it contagious. He was close to returning the smile before he realized that Malfoy's smile tended to hold more malice than goodwill. "I think you would be far more cross with me if you weren't enjoying it," Malfoy noted at last, his gaze challenging Harry to deny it.

Harry was always up for a challenge.

"I'm _not _enjoying it," he balked. "And you were right before, I don't feel the same way as you do, but you were also wrong, because I _never_ will. You can keep scheming and harassing me but you'll never win me."

He studied Malfoy's stoic reaction for several moments, watching as a few familiar emotions skittered through his icy gray eyes. It was clear that Malfoy was conflicted over his words, both believing and not believing them all at once. Harry imagined it must be hard for Malfoy not to be completely sure about something.

"Will you come with me somewhere?" he asked at last and Harry watched him curiously.

"Where?" Harry asked, surprised at being given a choice. If Malfoy really wanted him somewhere, it seemed all he had to do was direct him there.

"I'd like to get out of here, out of the range of prying eyes and ears," he said, letting his eyes flick briefly around the room at the students still gathered nearby and staring overtly at the unlikely dance partners.

"If I say no, you'll just make me go," Harry grumbled.

"I won't," Malfoy assured him and loosened his grip on Harry's hand as if to prove it.

Harry thought about it, quickly weighing the pros and cons of accompanying Malfoy to wherever he was going. He wanted to get himself out of the middle of the rumor mill more than anything, but that hole was already dug and he was well and truly buried in it by now. Leaving with Malfoy would only hurt things, not help them.

Then there was Ron and Hermione, who would worry if he took off in Malfoy's care and though part of him screamed to agree and follow the Slytherin wherever he asked, the other -much stronger- part of him was terrified of the idea of being alone with Malfoy, especially after his most recent confession.

"No," he said at last, and he watched Draco's face fall for a moment before he schooled it into a careful mask of nonchalance. He simply nodded and released his hold on Harry's hand and waist before stepping away and falling into a deep bow. Harry wasn't sure whether it was meant to be patronizing or not, but he didn't get a chance to ask because Malfoy turned and left, his shimmering golden robes billowing behind him as he made his hasty exit.

"What did he want?" Hermione asked him only seconds later as the whispering flooded in from the students all around him.

Harry just stared at the large double doors, his eyes unable to pull away from the place that Malfoy had just occupied. His hand still tingled slightly from the Slytherin's touch and he rubbed it distractedly with his other hand, not certain whether he was trying to get rid of the feeling or press it deeper into his flesh.

"Harry?" Hermione called, turning him to face her and effectively breaking the trance, which was probably all it was to begin with. Another spell, another falsity.

"I think… well at least he says… he likes me," Harry muttered at last.

"Romantically?" Hermione asked, while Ron made exaggerated puking noises from behind her.

Harry only nodded as he thought of his brief and intimate exchange with the infuriating ferret, while Hermione shot Ron a menacing glare.

"He sure has a funny way of showing it," Hermione scoffed.

"Draco is very odd," Harry whispered distractedly, his mind still wandering over the events of the past several weeks trying to search out any obvious malicious intentions. While Harry could clearly see, and remember, how embarrassing the acts were against him, none of it was particularly harmful to him.

"Did you just call him Draco?" Ron asked incredulously, grunting when Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

"Did I?" Harry asked in a soft whispery tone as he walked away from his friends and toward the exit. He felt bad about turning Draco away when he had been clearly reaching out and he felt even worse now that Malfoy had been true to his word and didn't force his company on him.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, pulling Harry's arm to keep him from fleeing.

"To find Draco," Harry answered and almost laughed at the ridiculousness of his own words.

"Is he making you do this?" she asked, looking at him carefully.

Harry shook his head at once. "No. No this is all me. He just seemed sort of… lonely and I feel bad."

Hermione smiled warmly but her eyes still held worry. "Be careful, Harry," she whispered and kissed her friend on the cheek.

With a nod and a returning smile, Harry left the Great Hall and the fervent whispers that followed him out before the doors slammed shut behind him and left him alone with his thoughts again.

His mind was still in turmoil over why he was following after the insufferable git, but he felt compelled to do so all the same. He was pleased to know it wasn't magic that made him want to follow after Draco, but his own heart, which if anything scared him more than worried him.

Authors Note: I just wanted to thank all my loyal readers for your reviews! I heart you all! Harry poppets for everyone


	5. Some Kind of Sorcery

Authors Note: Many thanks to my beta Laurel for her diligent work on this chapter. As with several of my stories, this one only has a couple chapters left to it. I only intended it to be a 5 chapter long short story and it will go 2 chapters over that, so yay!

Chapter 5 Some Kind of Sorcery

Draco's feet echoed sharply against the stone floor as he fled the Great Hall and the prying eyes he left behind. It had cost him something to open up as he did in front of everyone, and more importantly to Harry, but he wasn't sure just yet what the price would be. Surely it was against some cosmic law to try and woo the famous Harry Potter, but it wasn't the first law Draco had broken and knowing himself as well as he did he was fairly certain it wouldn't be the last one either.

All that was left to him now were the consequences of his actions.

He had hoped to at least leave the fray with Harry in tow, but the Gryffindor had been even more stubborn than Draco had anticipated, making persuading him to leave the security of the ball nearly impossible. It might not have made a difference to how the school would react, but at least he would have garnered some alone time with Harry instead of simply being the target of the lynch mob he was certain would be rounding the corner with torches and pitchforks.

He could have forced Harry to come with him of course, but that wasn't really the point anymore. He wanted Harry to follow him of his own free will, he wanted to hear the boy whisper to him from inches away, he wanted to feel the pressure of those pouting lips, the silken texture of that obsidian hair and the shudder of release when Draco provided in person what he had only been able to accomplish so far through a ruddy doll.

He wanted Harry to want him.

Those dreams were dashed however, at least for now, and perhaps forever. Perhaps he revealed his hand too soon. Maybe he should have held back and continued to watch from a distance, giving Harry more time to become accustomed to the new yearnings fighting for control of his body. He wondered if he should have made sure that Harry was addicted to him before he told the Gryffindor his own feelings, but his mind was far too clouded with lust to think like a proper Malfoy. His father would be so disappointed, but then when wasn't he?

Draco reached the top of the stairs leading to the Astronomy tower, one of his favorite places to hide from the world and think, and moved straight to the window ledge. He sat down letting his legs dangle over the wall as he watched the stars and tried to ignore the brisk cold wind that assaulted his face and hands.

The vistas from that point were magnificent, sprawling white grounds coated in glittering snow and the iced over lake so polished that it reflected a mirrored image of the starry sky stretched out before him. It was beautiful and it was nearly impossible to feel the pain of failure from that vantage point. No doubt it would return though, as it always did and as soon as it reared its ugly head Draco would cower before it and cause him to do something stupid once again.

Every poor choice he had ever made in life stemmed from wanting to succeed more than anything else, which tended to blot out his normally good judgment like a heavy cloud over the sun. He had recently come to realize however, that power, fame and popularity came easier when he didn't work at it, though that revelation wouldn't allow his brain to switch off and curb his Malfoy training as much as he would like.

In the end it was a long uphill battle to fight against his own bad deeds and try to create a new life for himself. It was high time he got to be who he wanted and live how he wanted, but at the moment the only thing he wanted was Harry, and Harry, it seemed, was the one thing he couldn't have.

"Blast it, it's cold out here," came a quivering voice from the doorway and Draco froze solid, unable to believe his own ears.

"Harry?" he asked, finally turning around and squinting into the darkness behind him.

Sure enough, his unexpected visitor stepped into the light created by the moon and seemed to shimmer under the weight of it. Clad in emerald, silver and moonlight, Harry looked like a dream, his ebony curls falling haphazardly around his face and his eyes like polished jewels that stared back at Draco with cheeky rebellion that only a young lion could muster.

Adoration flooded Draco's veins and he had to bite down hard on his tongue to keep his emotions in check. He'd been so busy trying to make sure that Harry became addicted to him, Draco didn't stop to think of the effects that injecting himself with a frequent dose of Potter would do to his own willpower and Harry Potter, it seemed, would be a hard fixation to break.

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Harry surveyed the Astronomy tower quickly before making his presence known. When he first spotted Malfoy on the window ledge his heart gave a wild thump in his chest and he nearly lunged to keep the boy from jumping. He quickly realized however that his rival was merely staring out over the landscape and he chastised himself for thinking he could have such an effect on the blonde.

It was then that Harry noticed for the first time how blissfully angelic Draco could look. Just sitting there on the window ledge, his sharp profile in glowingly pale relief to the rich inky sky and the gold of his robes surrounding him in an otherworldly aura that left Harry slightly breathless. Harry could nearly imagine pristine white wings unfolding from the Slytherin's back and Draco launching himself into the frigid night air.

"Blast it, it's cold out here," he muttered at last, rubbing his hands together against the chill. The robes Draco had chosen for him were stunning for sure, but they were also thin and drafty, making him shiver. A shiver of a different kind went through him when Draco finally turned around and met his gaze.

"Harry?" the other boy quizzed and Harry stepped into the light that came streaming through the window so that Draco would know it was indeed him.

A look of hunger flickered through his piercing gray eyes and Harry was mesmerized by it, wondering what could have shifted between them that would make Draco so suddenly appealing and vice versa. Surely Hell must have frozen over for Harry to be able to dwell on those pale pink lips and yearn to kiss them.

He shook his head violently, trying to clear away the indecent thoughts, but it made no difference because the thoughts refused to relent, and every time he looked at Draco he could feel the ghosting of his pale hands and lips against his body. "So, is this where you wanted to take me?" he asked at last, clearing his throat slightly so as not to come off as nervous as he was.

"Yes. How did you find me?" Draco asked, not climbing from the ledge but turning around so that he faced Harry instead of the snowy grounds surrounding Hogwarts.

"I have my ways," he replied cryptically, knowing the Marauder's map was tucked safely away in his robe pocket and that the less Draco knew of his tracking methods the better.

"Why did you come?" Draco asked, his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing as if he was suddenly suspicious of him, when clearly it was Harry who held the right to be wary.

Harry thought about it and in fact he had been thinking about it the whole journey up to the tower, but the explanation still eluded him. "Because you didn't force me," he answered at last, which was the closest he had come to a result in his circles of thought.

"I told you I wouldn't," Draco replied coolly, rolling his eyes slightly as if to indicate that thinking otherwise was simply preposterous.

"Clearly you expect a fountain of trust to miraculously spring from inside of me," Harry muttered, shaking his head and thinking of just leaving. He didn't know what he wanted exactly, but he certainly didn't follow Draco so that they could argue.

"Very eloquent comeback. I didn't know you had it in you," Draco mused and Harry blushed. He hadn't meant to embarrass himself so early on in the conversation.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Malfoy," Harry replied, stalking up a bit closer to the window, but still remaining out of reach.

"But there's a lot I _do_ know," he countered and shifted on the window ledge, causing Harry to wince slightly as it looked like he might fall.

"Would you get down, you're making me nervous," Harry chastised, growing very anxious from Draco's precarious position.

Draco chuckled and raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "If I fell, would you save me?" he asked in the barest of whispers.

"I doubt it," Harry teased, but couldn't hide his smile for long and when Draco scrutinized him further he folded under the weight of his gray gaze. "You know I would," he replied at last. "It's what I do."

"So I've observed. Shall we test it?" Draco asked wickedly and stood on the ledge, letting his heels hover in thin air so that only the balls of his feet were still firmly planted on solid stone.

Harry leapt forward without a second thought and pulled Draco down. They lost their balance in the tussle and Draco fell forward, toppling them to the cold stone floor and putting his face a mere inches away from Harry's. "I thought you were going to jump," Harry whispered, recalling the sharp pain in his chest the first moment he saw Draco up in the tower window.

"I won't deny your affect on me, Potter, but I assure you it's not life threatening," Draco replied, his eyes still locked on Harry's.

"Good to hear. I'd rather not have your death on my conscience," he replied levelly.

Harry was breathing heavily and he knew with their close proximity that Draco must be able to hear his heart racing. He could feel Draco inching closer and taste the tangy flavor of Draco's breath on his own tongue. He wanted more than anything in that moment for Draco to kiss him. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against the ones that hovered just above him, but he wasn't brave enough to capture them himself.

"Are you doing this to me?" he whimpered, unable to understand how there might be a logical way for why he felt the way he did toward the malicious boy. He reasoned that there must be some outside force involved which was making him think such lurid thoughts about someone he hated as desperately as he did Malfoy.

"Am I doing what?" Draco asked curiously, his mouth formed into a half-smirk.

"Making me want to-" he began, but stopped suddenly, afraid to say more in case it wasn't Malfoy's doing after all. But it had to be, there was no other explanation.

Draco's smirk grew wider and he pressed himself more fully against Harry's body, sending a shudder through the both of them. "What is it you want, Harry?" he asked, just a breathy whisper above Harry's aching lips.

"I want to kiss you," Harry whispered in response, as if his armored brain simply shut down and truths began pouring out of his mouth like a sieve. He wanted to take it back at once, as Draco began to smile a very wicked and triumphant smile. That smile seemed to pull him back to reality and his brain kicked back in just in time so that when the blonde dove to capture his lips, a quick turn of the head sent Draco crashing into his cheek instead.

Before Draco could recover from the mistake, Harry was pushing him away and scrambling to his feet, a roiling anger taking hold of him. "What the fuck are you doing to me, Malfoy?" he demanded.

"I'm not doing anything," Draco replied, crossing his arms across his chest in haughty defiance. "I haven't done anything to you since I left the dance."

"Rubbish!" Harry shouted.

"It's true," Draco growled, sounding like a furious mountain cat.

"Then explain what this is," he demanded once more and Draco's face softened at his words.

"Isn't it obvious that I fancy you, Harry?" Draco asked, taking a step closer to where Harry stood and it took all his determination not to step back.

"No, no that's not obvious at all. You've only managed to humiliate me, ridicule me and make it impossible for me to talk to anyone," Harry replied angrily.

"I can have you all to myself that way," Draco purred in response, taking yet another step closer.

"Shove off, Malfoy. I'm not listening to your mind games. Just tell me what you're doing or I'll take it up with the headmistress," Harry warned, hoping it might bring the Slytherin to his senses at last.

Draco's eyes darkened into the likeness of molten pewter and he closed the gap between them in one last swift movement. "You don't know me at all if you think I'd back down that easily," he snarled. "I've nearly got you, Harry. You crave me, I can feel it and before I'm done you'll be begging me to take you."

The fair boy's words fell over him like a seductive blanket, enveloping him in a warmth that quickly pooled in his groin. Although he didn't get the chance to act on it and make an arse of himself yet again, because Draco spun and stormed away, taking that fiery passion out the door with him.

He would have called out to Draco, and beckoned him back, but he realized what he was doing only too soon and stopped himself. Harry wanted to simply curl up and hide from the lecherous feelings that were erupting inside of him. How could he want that? How could he yearn to do those things, feel those sensations with Draco Malfoy of all people? All he could think of was the other boy's milky white skin hovering over his own and being able to taste the coppery flavor of his own blood as he bit into his bottom lip to keep from shouting out.

Harry collapsed to the floor in the very spot he stood and with his head in his hands tried to scrub away the vulgar thoughts and images that now commandeered his mind.

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A smug sense of victory floated over Draco as he made his way down to the Slytherin dorms. It had not gone as he might have expected it to, or even wanted it to, but a success of sorts had been won on top of the tower.

Harry had finally admitted his attraction to him and he was one step closer to possessing the wanton Gryffindor as his lover if not more. An obscene pleasure crept upon him as the words 'he wants you' filled his mind as if sung by a choir of angels on high.

Draco felt more toward the boy than just a need for carnal fulfillment, but clearly Harry's lust was the way to get to him closer, a way to slowly break him down. He needed to ply the nervous boy with the kind of sexual attention Harry would find nowhere else and make him yearn for it, need it, just as he would any other basic necessity like food or water.

He needed to occupy every single thought the Gryffindor had from the first moment he woke up. His name needed to be constantly whispered against Harry's skin making it impossible for the Gryffindor to concentrate.

It would take more than what he was already doing however, to bring about such a change in the provocative hero, and Draco wasn't sure what more he could do without showing Harry what a lover's touch could truly be. Harry wouldn't let him get close enough for that.

It was in that moment that an idea struck him like the lightning bolt that graced his potential's head. Perhaps it would take more than the more bawdy forms of exploration to get Harry to warm up to him. Perhaps the Golden Boy wished to be romanced, it seemed like a very Gryffindor thing to want after all, and if ever there was a reason to sink to lion sensibilities it was now.

For Harry he would try being less slither and more purr.

Authors Note: I'm sort of in love with the last line. lol. I rarely pat myself on the back, but I sort of can't help it. The sentence makes me giggle. So, and extra thanks goes out to all my patient readers. I have updates in beta right now for nearly all of my stories and though I'm way off of my normal schedule, I'm getting back to it. So I'll see all you Poppet readers again soon and wet dreams to all!


	6. Romancing the Lion

Authors Note: Many thanks to my beta Laurel who helped kick my arse into shape for this chapter! Also, if anyone would like to know about updates and/or new projects you can find me on Facebook or my Yahoo Group (see my profile for details).

Chapter 6 Romancing the Lion

A faint brush of lips brought Harry out of his shallow slumber and he threw his hands up to ward off the midnight intruder.

It was a waste of energy however, because there was no one there.

Assuming it had just been a vivid dream – he had been having a lot of those lately - Harry pulled the covers back up to his chin and snuggled back into his pillow and mattress. He had just begun to feel the creeping tendrils of sleep pull at him once more when the tingling feeling of lips against his own brought him back into a fully alert state. He sat up quickly in shock and instinctively touched his fingers to his lips.

They felt swollen as if he had been snogging for hours and he felt a slight thrill at the possibility that Draco had returned to him. He knew he shouldn't, it had been three glorious weeks since Harry fought with the petulant boy at the top of the Astronomy tower and since that night he had slept soundly –for him anyway- and not had had any other unexpected sexual occurrences in public or otherwise.

At first he was relieved, figuring he had finally gotten through to the prat and made him understand that he just wasn't interested. The only problem with that was that he _was _interested.

He didn't want to be, Merlin knew it would be far easier if he weren't but he just couldn't seem to help himself.

When Malfoy was in the room, Harry's eyes sought him out at once, when Draco wasn't there, Harry found himself wishing he were. Ever since their fight in the Astronomy tower, and more importantly, their near kiss, Harry had found himself dreaming of and seeking out the boy he had, up until now, loathed. His thoughts began revolving around Draco as sure as the moon revolved around the Earth. Harry lingered on thoughts of him, memories of him, and worse still, the physical sensations he had experienced at Malfoy's clever hand.

At the very thought of the petulant blonde, Harry grew warm and fluttery and felt like a silly schoolgirl whenever the boy looked at him. It was disgusting, he knew, and he was reminded of it on a regular basis by Ron, but it made no difference what his logical brain told him because his heart wanted Malfoy, and only Malfoy would do.

A soft feather-like touch ran the length of his torso and Harry gasped. He had the wherewithal to cast a silencing charm just in time, for that same downy caress sought him again, this time running up and down his naked thigh.

His eyelids fluttered shut at the touch. It was like nothing Draco had ever done to him before; gone was the rough penetration and rushed fellatio only to be replaced with these tender, almost loving ministrations. He nearly lost his mind in these new sensations.

With his eyes closed he could imagine Draco pressing firm, yet soft kisses against his skin while his fair and silky mane brushed along the gooseflesh his lips had created. His back arched involuntarily as if trying to get closer to his phantom lover, but he remained wanting, and for the first time Harry wished it was Draco with him then and not some invisible force doing Draco's bidding.

A guttural moan escaped his lips as the lips turned into a tongue. He could actually see the moist lines around his nipples that trailed down to his groin but stopped just short and left Harry aching for more.

All at once everything ceased; the touches, the kisses and the fond caresses,and the tingle he felt whenever he was under Draco's spell began to dissipate. He could almost hear Malfoy's faint chuckle in the air upon releasing his hold on Harry's body and leaving him cruelly unfulfilled.

He leapt out of bed in a blur of confusion and dressed quickly, skipping his usual morning shower, to hurry down to the common room. "Hermione!" he shouted urgently upon seeing her frizzy hair jutting out above the top of an armchair by the fire.

She turned around, a look of concern clouding her chocolate eyes and set her book aside. "You're up early. Everything alright, Harry?"

"No, everything is definitely not alright, Mione," he muttered.

"He's back isn't he?" she whispered. Harry had kept her abreast on everything that had happened since he first looked to her for help, and even though she was still researching what it was that Draco could have been doing to him, they had both been under the impression that it was over.

"Yes, and this time it's worse," Harry groaned, flopping onto the floor at Hermione's feet and holding his head between his knees.

"Worse?" she gasped. "What could be worse than… that what he's already done?" she asked, unable to speak the words out loud.

Harry's face flushed bright red and he couldn't meet his friend's questioning gaze, which seemed to cause her even greater concern. "Harry, what is it?" she demanded in a squeaky panicked voice.

"He didn't finish," Harry muttered softly.

"What?" she asked, leaning closer so that she could hear her friend.

"He didn't finish," Harry repeated, still finding the rich wooden floorboards fascinating.

"He didn't –oh," she replied at last, clearly trying to hide a snicker by coughing into her hand.

Harry scowled up at her with narrowed eyes. "It's not funny," he stated firmly.

"No, no of course it's not, Harry," she replied, still fighting the urge to laugh. "It's just that this is a new complaint."

With a heavy sigh, Harry tugged at his raven locks. "It's like he knows and he's toying with me," he muttered at last.

"Knows what?" she replied, moving to sit on the floor beside her weary friend.

He hesitated for a moment, not sure how to put it, and then finally just sighed. "It's like he knows that I'm falling in love with him."

Harry had never seen Hermione's eyes so wide; not when he helped to rescue her from that troll in first year, not when she first saw Lupin transform, and not even a few weeks before when Ron had finally thoughtfully and romantically asked her to the dance in a way that even he hadn't expected. "Harry, you can't mean-" she began but Harry poured all of his confusion in his eyes as he looked up to meet Hermione's soft brown ones and she stopped talking.

"I don't know. It's the only thing that makes sense though. I dream about him, I think about him all the time… I _want_ him, Hermione," he groaned at last, ashamed to even be saying it out loud, but at the same time knowing it to be the truth.

"And now you think he's toying with you?" she asked in a way that reminded Harry why he loved her so much. She skipped right over the painful confession and focused on the heart of the problem -not that it wouldn't crop back up later- but while it was fresh and open like a wound, she avoided it.

"It was brilliant, Mione," he mused, and he knew he must have looked like a wistful idiot. "It was gentle and nothing like before, and then it was just over."

"Maybe his spell faltered, or maybe whatever it is he's using to do this to you is being used up," she reasoned. "If it's a potion, he might only have a limited supply."

"Maybe," Harry replied, but he didn't really think that was the case.

"We'll figure this out, Harry, I promise," she told him as she ruffled his hair. "In the meantime, you should go get ready for breakfast. The other students will be waking up soon," she offered and Harry nodded and got up.

"Thanks, Mione," he replied and kissed her on the cheek before rushing up the stairs to his dorm, missing the fact that she at once made her way to the portrait hole and left.

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Draco was humming to himself happily as he made his way to breakfast. He liked to arrive early so as to grab up his favorites before there were all pilfered by the other Slytherin's. He felt good about the day ahead, having already enraptured Harry that morning he looked forward to seeing Harry's smoldering green gaze staring at him from across the room with the kind of hunger Draco knew he left him with. He was nearly to the entrance doors of the Great Hall when a hex hit him square in the shoulder sending him flying down an adjacent corridor.

He barely had an instant to recover before a binding charm slithered around him and kept him pinned to the floor.

"What the hell are you playing at, Malfoy?" asked a decidedly feminine voice coming from just out of his sight. A moment later a ball of frizzy brunette hair towered over him with a furious scowl and with a wave of her wand she released him from the binding spell.

Draco took his time getting up and made a show of brushing himself off before narrowing his eyes at Hermione. "Is there any particular reason you've decided to attack me in the halls like a feral animal, Granger?"

"I know what you've been doing to Harry, and I won't just stand by and let it happen," she hissed.

"If only I knew what you were referring to, I might be able to help," Draco replied noncommittally.

"You've sunken to a new low, Malfoy. Just give it up before you hurt him," she growled.

A twinge of guilt washed over him and despite his better sense he asked a question he hadn't intended to. "Have I hurt him?"

Hermione's face softened slightly at his question and she shook her head before returning to her previous scowl. "Not yet, but you will if you keep this up."

"It's not my intention to harm him," Draco replied honestly.

"What _is_ your intention, Malfoy?" she asked with a genuinely curious look.

Draco wasn't one for sentimental mush. It was one thing to tell Harry that he fancied him and another thing altogether to talk about it with a virtual stranger. He certainly wasn't in the mood to gossip about flowers and feelings with Harry's best friend so he answered her with something he was fairly certain would get her to storm off in a snit. "My intention is to fuck him, Granger. Multiple times preferably."

Her face turned Weasley red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment but she did not leave him alone as Draco expected. Clearly her skin was thicker than he thought.

"You're disgusting, Malfoy," she spat.

He just shrugged elegantly and smirked at her fury. "Just let it be. I'll do things in my own time and in my own way, and there is no use for you to worry over it because there is nothing you can do to stop me from winning him over."

"I don't know what kind of voodoo you're using on my friend, but you had best watch yourself, Draco Malfoy, because I'm not going to stop until I smoke you out of your foxhole," she seethed.

Draco's eyes widened slightly and Hermione felt an odd sense of triumph at being able to intimidate the boy she had always loathed. But something about his reaction confused her and when she thought on it she quickly realized that his expression had become frightened at the beginning of her threat, not the end of it.

All at once the puzzle pieces clicked together and she gasped slightly from both relief that she had finally figured out Malfoy's secret and a sense of awe at his unexpected brilliance. She had named it, the very thing he had been trying to keep from the lot of them, and cleverly so.

"That's it, isn't it? You're using voodoo on _our_ Harry," she whispered emphasizing the word and Draco was fairly certain she didn't mean to include Draco in that 'our'.

Draco laughed a harsh, but clearly nervous laugh. "Why would I mess with that tripe when I have a plethora of Dark Magic at my fingertips?" he responded with narrowed eyes and a suddenly closed expression.

"Because it would throw us, and it worked too didn't it?" she mused. "Here I've been researching all kinds of Dark Arts looking for a spell or potion you could be using but I never once suspected that you could be using a _doll _to control him."

"I'm not doing anything to your precious Potter, Granger," he replied and started to walk away. He needed to get away from her before they attracted a crowd.

"Do you have it with you now?" she called after him with a knowing laugh.

Draco ignored her and continued to walk away, picking up his pace so that he could reach Harry before Granger did. If she told Harry what she knew then Draco would lose all the ground he had built over the past several weeks. The fact that Harry's friend attacked him in the middle of the castle proved that Draco was on the right track and close to a break through.

He dashed quickly up to the Gryffindor tower and paced back and forth, waiting for Harry, or someone that could fetch him, to emerge. He waited nearly ten minutes without seeing a soul so, feeling like he was losing his advantage, he ran back down toward the Great Hall, taking the stairs two at a time.

It only took a minute before he spotted Harry sitting beside Ron and across from the Weaselette. Surrounded by that much red hair Harry would be a beacon even in the dark. After seeing no sign of Hermione he took a deep breath and stalked up to Harry, grabbing him roughly by the elbow and pulling him to his feet.

"We need to talk," Draco demanded.

"I'm eating, Malfoy," Harry grumbled.

"Now," Draco said and started pulling Harry toward the door. All eyes were on the exchange, but Draco didn't care. He was about to lose precious ground with the man he loved; he felt as though if he were to convince Harry now that he had _real_ feelings for him and that it wasn't all a game, then it might not matter when he told the Gryffindor _how_ he had managed to manipulate him. He needed to talk to him alone before Granger got to him and it all came crumbling down around him.

Harry hesitated at first but eventually stopped resisting and started following Draco from the room, so Draco loosened his grip on the Gryffindor's arm.

"You're too late, Malfoy. I know your game, I know what you're doing," Harry remarked lightly.

Draco immediately pulled Harry into the nearest empty classroom and whirled on him, pressing his slight body into the wall and gripping his upper arms tightly in both hands. "So she told you then?" he asked and Harry nodded, his eyes looking like a darkened forest.

"So now I suppose you're going to claim that you didn't enjoy it?" Draco muttered, refusing to lighten his grip of Harry's arms. For the moment Harry seemed content to remain held in his rough embrace, but Draco doubted that his complacency would last.

"I rarely enjoy being manipulated, Malfoy," Harry replied. It was not the outright denial Draco had been expecting and it gave him a spark of courage he hadn't known he had.

"I only had the best intentions, Harry," he replied, and though that might not have been true at the start, it certainly was now.

"You know what they say about the road to hell," Harry muttered.

"Pardon?" Draco asked, thoroughly confused.

"Nevermind," he replied with a patronizing smile. "What did you bring me here for anyway?"

"I'm tired of only getting to touch you through a doll. I want to make you scream, Harry, and I want it to be because you feel _me_, not some ghosting replica of my hands. I want you to be my poppet," Draco purred against his ear, but Harry shoved him away.

"Sod off, Malfoy. I'm not your doll," he hissed.

Instead of an argument, which he would surely lose against the wizarding world's most stubborn, self righteous hero, Draco crashed his lips against Harry's in a violent kiss, bringing up emotions even the proud Gryffindor couldn't argue with.

Draco felt the lust rise inside of him as his lips touched Harry's for real. Never in his wildest fantasies had he imagined Harry tasting so good, like hot apple cider and a hint of vanilla. When he felt the press of the other boy's tongue against his lips, he knew he had finally succeeded.

Draco one, Harry zero.

In a blur of hands and lips Harry tore at him, like a hormonal woman being offered a bar of chocolate. He kissed Draco back fiercely and ran his fingers through his silken hair. Draco relished the texture of Harry's fingers, not soft and pristinely manicure like his own, but slightly rough and callused like a warriors hands should be. The feel of Harry plastered against him was the stuff of fantasies, even Harry's scent-which reminded Draco of flying- was completely intoxicating.

All he knew in that moment was that, consequences be damned, he wanted to stay locked in Harry's embrace forever.

He pressed back into the Gryffindor, letting his hands wander under Harry's robes, caressing the smooth flesh he had only been able to dream about. Harry was soft and pliable to his touch, as if he knew he was safe here and dropped all of his shields and all of his walls just for him.

Careful fingers grazed over Harry's nipples, causing them to stand at instant attention and pulled a soft guttural moan from the Gryffindor's mouth. Draco smiled against his lips, biting gently on the bottom one while trailing his right hand lower to trace along the top edge of Harry's trousers.

Harry rutted against him, begging for Draco to press further, touch more and take what he wanted. As his lips broke away from Draco's to ply wanton kisses along his neck, they grazed the edge of his earlobe and released a low whisper that reverberated right through him.

"Don't think yourself so victorious," he warned, making Draco's mind drift from the heat pooling in his groin to the surprisingly brilliant, clear green eyes now staring at him from an extremely close proximity. "I know exactly what I'm doing," he added.

"And what's that?" Draco asked in return, proud that his voice didn't waver as he had expected it might.

"I'm taking what I want," Harry whispered, his voice slinking along Draco's skin like a lover's caress.

He shuddered against the raven-haired beauty, feeling his desire escalate even more for the bold and direct hero. Draco had fantasized about Harry telling him that he wanted him, maybe even needed him. He tried to clear his mind, tried to push back the salacious cloud that was clinging to every fiber of his being so that he could ask the question that would finally reward him for his due diligence.

"And what do you want?" he asked softly, waiting with baited breath for Harry's answer.

Without uttering a single word, Harry pressed against him, letting his hands work in covetous movements over Draco's lithe form until finally he smiled triumphantly and stepped back.

"This," he said at last, holding up the doll for which Draco had poured all of his passion and vengeance.

His steely gray eyes went wide as he realized he had been tricked away from his prize, ambushed out of not only Harry's embrace, but also his likeness. He made a mad grab for the doll, but Harry held it easily out of his reach and shook his finger in mock chastisement at the blonde.

"You constantly underestimate me, Malfoy," Harry told him critically. "It's the largest gap that hovers between us."

Draco didn't know why, but Harry's words struck him as sounding a bit forlorn over that fact. "And if I wish to close that gap?" he asked suddenly, wondering if it were even possible, or if Harry would ever want it.

The infuriatingly nonchalant Gryffindor merely shrugged lightly and smiled that haunting and crooked grin of his. "I'm sure you'll think of something. You're a clever boy after all," he replied at last, before departing with his stolen doll and leaving a thoroughly unfulfilled, yet hopeful Draco in his wake.

Authors Note: I'm slowly but surely finishing up several of my stories, this one included. I'm also working on some others (a 2 chapter long short story I have finished needs a beta if anyone is interested) and happily updating as often as humanely possible.


	7. Trial and Error

Authors Note: More thanks than usual should be bestowed to the lovely Laurel, who kicked me up the arse with fuzzy slippers helping me get this chapter into shape. And here were are, 1700 words longer and later, so you should give her a massive thanks too! lol. Well, this (as with a few of my stories at the moment) is nearly the end. If you'd like updates on this or any other story please join my yahoo group. Also, if anyone is interested in Beta-ing, I have a few new projects I'm starting. See my profile for details.

Chapter 7 Trial and Error

Draco spent the weeks following the theft of his Harry poppet watching the mysterious Gryffindor closer than he usually did. There had been a spark between them that day, he was certain of it, and all he had to do was ignite that spark and fan the flames to create what he suspected could be a passionate pairing.

The question was how?

Clearly sex wasn't the way to win Harry over, at least not completely; it was enough to get his attention, but not to keep it. Typically Draco was excellent at plotting and scheming, but this felt different somehow; there was so much more at stake than ever before. He didn't want to scheme his way into Harry's heart. He wanted to earn it and be worthy of the other boy's affections. Sometimes he imagined himself standing on a precipice, and on one side was Harry, arms open and welcoming, and on the other side were sharp daggers of loneliness just waiting to impale him.

He didn't want to be impaled… at least not by daggers.

Nearly a month had passed since his and Harry's turbulent meeting; this morning was just the same as every morning before it and nobody even suspected the changes occurring in Draco's world. The same students who had occupied the space around him the Great Hall for years surrounded him still, but Draco couldn't think about any of that. His eyes were all for Harry, who was sitting on the other side of the hall chatting animatedly with his friends. No one from that side of the room paid him the least bit of attention, except Granger who he had spied staring at him occasionally until he caught her and then she looked away hurriedly and with cheeks tinged pink.

Harry would stare sometimes too, particularly in Potions or Herbology where they sat within easy sight of one another. Unlike Granger, however, Harry wouldn't sheepishly look away and pretend as if he hadn't been staring in the first place. No, he would continue to gaze at Draco unabashedly with a questioning look in his eyes that seemed to ask 'have you figured it out yet?', but he never pulled Draco aside, or attempted to speak with him.

Draco's answer to the silent question was always 'no' and it must have shown in his own eyes just as clearly because that seemed to be all it took to make Harry look away again and busy himself with something or someone else.

It made Draco feel vastly ignorant, as if he had been focusing all his studies on the Gryffindor and learned nothing at all aside from the fact that Harry was fond of a feather and fought not to scream when he came, which was completely useless information to have if he were never permitted to get close to the raven-haired boy again.

So, instead of eating his toast and marmalade, he watched Harry and what he learned after only a few weeks made him want Harry by his side even more.

The first lesson Draco received had come in the form of a note a few weeks prior.

After Harry manipulated him so brilliantly and stolen the poppet directly out of his own robes –a feat that any Malfoy would be most impressed with, Draco had rushed back to his dorm room and immediately located the bauble he had bought with Harry in mind. It felt like ages ago that he had purchased it, but he managed to find the amulet which rested safely in a black velvet bag at the bottom of his trunk where he had left it. After gazing at its intricate rune work, he polished it to a brilliant shine and replaced it in the pouch along with a simple note.

He then made his way to the Owlery as quickly as possible. He wanted to get the gift into Harry's hands before the Gryffindor had time to reflect on what had happened between the two of them and change his mind about being open to Draco as something more –if that was even what he meant at all with his cryptic words.

With a sigh of relief and an equal amount of renewed tension, Draco watched as his owl flew from its perch in the Western tower toward the spire of the Gryffindor dormitories.

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Harry sat on his four-poster bed, enclosed in rich burgundy curtains to keep out the rest of the world. Hermione had tried to follow him upstairs but he forbid her with a quick shake of his head. Ron seemed to understand that his friend wanted to be alone and he was nice enough to keep their other roommates from disturbing him as well. He didn't like being a burden, but he needed time to think.

So much had happened over the last few months that he felt like a different person than the tense and wallowing boy he was when he boarded the train at the start of the year. Hate begat confusion, which gave way to something closer to fondness, and the culprit of all those transformations, was sitting quietly in front of him.

He wasn't certain what lay beneath all the twine that surrounded the voodoo doll but he had his suspicions. He vaguely recognized the figure a toy company had made in his likeness over the summer and nearly shuddered at the absurdity of Draco having bought one. Though he supposed it might not be beyond the Slytherin to just steal it rather than purchase it honestly.

Shaking his head, Harry lectured himself silently. He really didn't know a good deal about Draco and it was wrong to accuse him of blatant thievery when he wasn't even there to defend himself. But then he was forced to shake away these new thoughts as he began to wonder what would happen if Draco were there in that very moment, sitting on his bed across from him instead of the tiny doll.

Harry sighed and hefted the effigy, studying it closely and noticing the obvious care and purpose that went into its making. It was bound with a fibrous rope and what appeared to be his own hair, though he had no idea how the Slytherin could have gotten it. He couldn't remember ever missing a lock of hair, but he did have an awful lot of it after all and rarely paid it much attention to it; grooming wasn't terribly high on his list of priorities.

Tucked within the folds of the rope and obsidian hair was a dried flower and upon closer inspection Harry found it to be a lily, which made him wonder –and not for the first time- what Draco's true intentions were. Did Draco realize the sentimental bond the flower's namesake would hold, or was it merely a coincidence? He assumed that Draco intended to keep the doll hidden forever so it would have been pointless to use something that Harry would gush over, but then Draco had once mentioned that he would turn it over if ever Harry admitted his feelings.

The answers seemed to keep evading him, whereas the questions continued to pile upon him. Was Draco actually interested in him or was he just another obsessed fan of the 'Great Harry Potter' that got a little too carried away? Sometimes he found it so hard to distinguish one from the other, especially after the war, which was why he usually kept to himself and the few friends he knew were true.

Did Draco want a place in that close-knit circle or did he simply want to use the Potter name as a stepping-stone toward his own fame and power? And more importantly, how could Harry find out all this before it was too late and his heart got broken?

Harry let the doll fall from his grasp and onto the bed, but continued to stare at it lying there as if the poppet held all the answers. He remained that way until a sharp tapping sound startled him out of his unorganized thoughts.

At first he thought one of his roommates wanted access to the room and that he would have to find a new hiding place, but when the tapping sounded again he saw a stunning eagle owl hovering just outside his window, so he opened it wide to let the bird in. He had to duck low in order to dodge the tawny owl that swooped into the dormitory and watched as it circled the room twice before finally landing within Harry's reach and held out an elegant claw.

Taking the black velvet pouch from the owl's leg, Harry softly kneaded the bird's neck- as Hedwig had always liked- and smiled when it cooed at him and nibbled gently at his fingers. A moment later the graceful owl launched himself back out the window, leaving Harry alone once more.

He studied the heavy bag in his hands for a moment wondering who might have sent it, before hesitantly opening it and tipping the contents to the bed. A heavy necklace fell out first, following by a small scrap of parchment that floated to the bedspread to rest beside it.

Harry picked up the bauble and knew instinctively that it had to be from Draco. It was far too opulent to have come from any of his friends or anyone else he knew for that matter. It was surprising really, because he had only just left Draco an hour before and he hardly thought the boy had time to seek out a meaningful gift so quickly, which made him speculate as to what the present actually was.

He turned it over and over in his palm while he cast several spell seeking charms and found only protection magic embedded in the piece. It really was lovely, primarily clad in dark silver and only a shining golden phoenix stood out in relief on its surface. It undeniably a well crafted piece but it wasn't his taste at all; he actually never really wore jewelry- protective or otherwise- so he placed the amulet aside and picked up the note, smiling slightly at the words written in a careful script.

_Harry,_

_I've had this in my room for weeks waiting for the right moment to give it to you. I'm not sure if this is the right time, but it seems better than any other has been so far. Please accept it as an apology for violating your privacy._

_Yours,_

_Draco_

_P.S. I believe the initials on the back belong to Albus Dumbledore._

Sure enough when Harry looked closely the carved initials of the late Headmaster and his mentor were as plain as day. Harry smiled to himself as he slipped the necklace over his head, deciding to make an exception for this particular piece, and let it fall beneath his robes where its weight felt cool and comforting against his flesh.

He knew Draco would no doubt be waiting for a reply, but he wasn't completely sure what to make of the gift and couldn't think of exactly what to say. He decided to wait rather than respond immediately, knowing that he would be inspired eventually and could write Draco back once he found the right words.

**--------------------------------------------------------------------**

Draco woke in the middle of the night to a soft pop and the scrunched up face of a house elf adjacent to his own. He sat up with a start and willed his heart rate to slow before nodding his head automatically in return to the elf's bow. The castle elves came and went through the castle and their dorms all the time gathering laundry and making beds, but they were always very careful not to disturb the students as they did, and they certainly never hovered and stared at them while they slept. Add that to the vague familiarity he had with the elf at his bedside, which was equally unusual, and anyone would have leapt out of their skin.

"Master Potter bid to me deliver this to you, Sir," said the gravelly voice of the familiar elf as he handed over a tightly bound scroll.

"Kreacher?" Draco asked, finally recognizing the house elf from his stays at the Black family home.

"Yes, Sir," he answered and bowed again. "Young master Malfoy seems to have made quite an impression on the new master. Kreacher thinks it's about time that Master Potter associate with a proper pureblood family," he added before bowing and disappearing from the room.

Draco laughed at the irony of his maternal family elf legally belonging to the same boy who freed and stole his father's elf. How Harry had become important enough to the Black family to receive such a gift was a mystery, but he figured it just added to the pile of riddles that surrounded the Gryffindor boy. It was just another question he'd like to unravel and only further tethered Draco's mind to thoughts of Harry.

Like a greedy child he quickly discarded those thoughts and scrambled to open Harry's note, he had been agonizing over it and waiting for a response all day and had even begun to think perhaps he wouldn't get one. The handwriting was dreadful, and several words were crossed out, but Draco laughed in spite of himself as he read the letter over and over.

_Draco,_

_It feels odd calling you that as opposed to Malfoy or ferret or worse. I suppose I might be able to get used to it though._

_Your gift was very thoughtful and I appreciate the gesture. I'm sure I'll think of you when I wear it which might have been your plan all along._

_Just for the record though, expensive presents were not what I was referring to when I told you to think of something. Nice effort though._

_Potentially,_

_Harry_

Draco felt slightly dejected that his gift hadn't been received better, but at least it hadn't been sent back with a letter rejecting him outright which had been a legitimate possibility. Still, it spurned him forward knowing that Harry would wear the amulet and think of him. He was also pleased to note that Harry had signed his note 'potentially' meaning that he must be at least open to the idea of beginning something with him.

The fact that he didn't know Harry nearly well enough to predict his reaction to such a gift left Draco's mind spinning with confusion as to what to do next. Not wanting to waste any more time, he set to work. After pulling out a parchment scroll, ink, and his favorite quill, Draco decided to make a list of everything he knew about Harry.

Draco noticed that Harry often fidgeted, whether it was during meals, or while pretending to listen to one of McGonagall's lessons he was constantly either chewing on his bottom lip or biting his nails, which indicated that he worried a great deal over things. Draco wondered what events would cause the great hero so much disquiet, especially now that Voldemort was no longer a threat.

At one time he would have been arrogant enough to assume that Harry's concerns were centered around him, but he had seen so much more out of the Gryffindor than he had ever expected and knew now that he was merely a small dot on the giant map of Harry's life. It was hardly Draco's fault that he wanted to be more than a dot, something much more significant to Harry, like a country, or even an entire continent. His ultimate goal was to be the boy's whole world, but he would be content with any section of Harry's world if that was all that was allowed.

Regardless, the fact that Harry was worrisome, perhaps even overly so, made it on the list.

The next items were things that Draco gleaned from Harry's response to the amulet. Firstly, Harry seemed to care very little about impressions, as evident when he chose to merely cross out parts of the letter that he had second-guessed as opposed to starting over. Wealth seemed unimportant to him as well, since he was quick to point out that he thought the amulet was expensive and that extravagance was unnecessary. Draco felt confident in assuming that the only reason Harry didn't return the gift was because of the amulet's sentimental value. If it hadn't once belonged to his old mentor, Harry most likely would have disregarded it as unimportant despite the powerful protection spells embedded within or the delicate beauty of it.

If such a handsome piece wasn't important without the previous owner having been close to him, then what _was_ important to Harry Potter?

Clearly not fame or power or the glory received from defeating a Dark Lord. Harry had all those things already and he had cast them aside as if they were just a dusty piece of candy.

To be honest the boy went against the grain in every way imaginable. He didn't want to be popular, although it was clear that he valued loyal friendships and preferred to be liked to being hated as evidenced on the rare when a nasty article would pop up in the _Daily Prophet _and Harry's mood would grow defensive and maudlin. He had often observed Harry snapping at anyone who dared to ask him about any of the vicious rumors they used to spread, and Draco wondered how often the boy felt vastly misunderstood and taken advantage of.

More importantly, as a Malfoy, Draco knew what it was like to be cautious with trust. The world was filled with phonies and cads all just hoping to hitch a ride on someone else's ticket.

"Perhaps a show of trust," Draco mused out loud to himself. He tapped the side of his desk with his fingers in a rhythmic beat as he mulled this over in his mind. Maybe that was what held Harry back. Obviously they had never been friends, and it must be at least somewhat unsettling to learn that his enemy harbored romantic feelings for him –it had certainly been a hard fact for Draco to swallow at first. If he found a way to prove to Harry that he wasn't intending to break his heart and run off to spread rumors about him to the press… perhaps then Harry might soften a little towards him.

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Two weeks later the common room was packed with students all trying to relieve the boredom of being stuck inside the castle on a Saturday afternoon. Outside the sky had broken open and rain poured over Hogwarts and the surrounding grounds so heavily that even the giant squid that resided in the nearby lake was ornery from it.

The courtyards were reduced to a muddy mess, not even fun for jumping in puddles or making water cannon spells as they might typically do on a rainy weekend.

This left the students fidgety and restless as they found themselves all uncomfortably crammed into the normally cozy common room. Hermione got frustrated early on and retreated to the library so that she could get some 'proper studying' accomplished, and Harry wasn't too keen on a crowd -as usual- so he and Ron went up to their dorm to play a game of Exploding Snap.

Ron was winning, as was often the case. Even after nearly eight years in the wizarding world Harry still couldn't accustom himself to some of the things that other wizarding children had grown up around and found a natural ease with.

Harry held his wand at the ready as the hexagonal cards shuffled and four spread out into a diamond pattern. They flipped over, revealing the portraits of different famous witches or wizards, which often reminded him of his chocolate frog cards. They were no matches however, so Harry waited for the deck to shuffle again and a different set of cards to display. This time there were two matching cards, both a likeness of Severus Snape and Harry dove to tap them with his wand before Ron did.

Before he was able to however, Ron looked up and blurted something so unexpected that Harry could only blink in response.

"Is it true that you fancy Malfoy?" the redhead asked, his wand still at his side where it had been before the cards ever flipped over.

The cards baring Snape's grumbling form made a loud blast as if a firecracker had gone off and burst into flame before fizzling into a pile of black soot, but both boys ignored the sound.

"I don't know," Harry replied honestly, sweeping away the ash with the side of his hand.

"How can you not know?" Ron asked with pursed lips and an increasingly red face. "You used to hate him, it was all you ever talked about, and now…"

"Now it's different," Harry finished for Ron to save him some embarrassment.

"Right," he replied. "So which is it?"

"Did you know right off that you fancied Hermione or were you confused at first?" Harry asked, trying to reason with his friend.

It looked as though Ron was going to argue but before he said anything he simply nodded his head. "So you're confused," he offered and Harry nodded.

"I think I like him, I mean, he's interesting and clever and funny, but he's also… well, he's Malfoy," Harry laughed and Ron laughed along with him, albeit his laugh was slightly uncomfortable in comparison to Harry's easy chuckle.

"Do you think you might… want to_ snog_ him?" Ron asked, his face turning a more flushing pink than angry red.

Harry's face heated up as well in response to the question and he tried to laugh it off, but found it difficult. He didn't want to lie to his best friend, but he didn't want to make him uncomfortable either. "I sort of already have," he confessed.

"What!?" Ron shouted, clearly in shock.

"It's sort of how I got the voodoo doll away from him. He kissed me and I kissed him back so I could distract him long enough to steal it away," Harry replied, his hands held up in mock defense. "Hermione told me that for the magic to work as well as it did, Draco would have to be carrying it on his person. I had no idea how to get it back until then."

"So you kissed him, but you didn't want to," Ron reasoned, calming slightly.

"Er- it was a means to an end most certainly, but I… I enjoyed it," he admitted warily. He really didn't want his friend's head to explode in the same manner as the cards had.

"You… enjoyed snogging… Malfoy?" Ron repeated, as if hoping he misunderstood, but Harry could only nod.

Harry couldn't help but recall that it had actually been pretty fucking amazing, but he wasn't going to burden Ron with too much information in his fragile state. Instead he prepared himself for some kind of mild hex or a screaming fit, or even to have to watch Ron storm out of his life, but his friend surprisingly only sighed and nodded.

"I suppose that explains a lot," he replied at last and Harry looked abashed.

"What does that mean?" he demanded and Ron only laughed.

"No offense, Harry, but you've only ever shown interest in Cho - who was unavailable - and my little sister –which, let's face it, was weird to begin with," he teased. "Plus, you ignored dozens of girls who were trying pretty hard to get your attention."

Harry shoved him playfully and shook his head in mock dismay. "And here I thought you were going to say it was because Draco's pretty," he replied while fluttering his lashes demurely.

"He does look a bit more like his mum," Ron sputtered and then howled with laughter until his face fell into a deep grimace. "I just pictured Malfoy in a dress," he groaned and then they both couldn't breathe around their fits of giggling.

After several minutes, they both laid flat on their backs staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily, trying to calm themselves, with their card game lying completely forgotten beside them. Harry had no idea what Ron was thinking as they sat in silence, but he was relieved to know that Ron seemed open to the idea of something happening with Draco.

A tapping at the window shook them both out of their trance and Harry looked up to see the same Eagle owl that delivered the amulet and his stomach did a little flop. It had been nearly two weeks since Draco sent him the necklace and he was starting to worry that his letter had deterred the Slytherin from pursuing him any longer.

He rushed over to the window, ignoring Ron's quizzical looks, and let the bird in. This time it flew straight to the place it had perched before and held out a delicate claw for Harry to take the obtrusive package.

The bundle was much larger this time and Harry was both excited and nervous to see what it held. Was it possible that Draco sent something all wrong for him? He had no real reason to feel that way, because the Yule Ball robes and the amulet although expensive had both been thoughtful and showed that Draco knew at least a bit about him. But was it enough to justify the beginnings of a relationship?

He petted the owl softly and closed the window behind it after watching it swoop out of the room with a hoot.

For a moment, all he could do was stare down at the object in his hands. Whatever the gift was it had been wrapped carefully with a green suede cloth and embossed with sparkling silver Celtic knots. He took a deep breath and slowly pulled back the corners of the fabric and nearly laughed out loud when he saw what was hidden inside.

"What is it?" Ron asked from over his shoulder.

Harry jumped slightly, having forgotten his friend was even there in his excitement to see what Draco had sent him. In his hands was a doll, not unlike the one Draco had made in his likeness, only this one had no flower and was twined with long stands of platinum blonde hair of a shade Harry recognized at once.

"It's a Draco voodoo doll," Harry replied with a chuckle. He studied the doll, turning it over and over in his hands as he had done with the amulet. He wasn't completely sure what to make of the gift or even what Draco intended for him to do with it.

"Wow," Ron whispered, his voice sounding awestruck.

"What?" Harry asked, unable to decipher what Ron had meant with his exclamation.

"Well, that must mean he really trusts you," he replied, gesturing to the doll in Harry's nimble hands. "He doesn't have yours anymore, and now he's given you one of him to use as you please. I'm not even sure I would let Mione have a poppet of me," he admitted.

"What did you just call it?" Harry asked, his lip curling into a half-smile.

"Poppet," Ron repeated. "It's the traditional name of the voodoo doll.

"I heard Malfoy refer to it as that the day I took mine from him. I thought he had said puppet" Harry mused.

"I doubt it," Ron replied with a shake of his head. "It's also a term of endearment in some cultures," he added wisely and with a suggestively raised eyebrow.

"I think your girlfriend is rubbing off on you," Harry teased. "I don't think I've ever heard you recite something like that before."

"I was fascinated by the subject as a kid. Dad had a case where a wizard was selling muggles _real_ voodoo dolls, and I wanted to know all about it. At one point I even tried to make a pair of them so that I could control the twins. Unfortunately mum found out and hid them away somewhere before I was able to make them do anything," Ron replied sullenly. "In fact, had you let me in on what was going on with you sooner, I could have told you exactly what Malfoy was doing," he added smugly.

"Figures," Harry muttered, shaking his head. Just when he thought he had his best friend all figured out, Ron surprised him with something completely unexpected.

"So what are you going to do with it?" Ron asked, pointing to the poppet and looking mischievous.

"I don't know yet, but you're not touching it," he warned.

Ron only laughed. "I have no want or need to be giving Malfoy orgasms or whatever rubbish you two have been up to," he replied with a knowing smirk.

Harry blushed and wrapped the doll back up, giving him an excuse to look away from his friend until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He worried that despite his best friend's light mood that he would somehow hold their difference of sexuality against him. Harry had never thought much about it, but it seemed fairly clear now that he preferred Draco over any girl he had ever known. Did Ron just seem to understand on the surface of things but was deep down disgusted?

"Listen mate, he might not be my first pick for you, but if you like him, then there must be something there worth liking," Ron offered, making Harry smile warmly. "I'll leave you alone with your poppet," he added with a suggestive chuckle and left the room.

Harry threw a pillow after him, missing widely, which only made Ron laugh harder and then the door shut and he was alone with Draco's likeness. Relieved at Ron's acceptance he turned his focus back to the gift and unwrapped the parcel to completely free the doll only to find a note pinned to the inside of the cloth. His hands were trembling with anticipation as he unfolded the letter; he was terribly anxious to see what eloquent words Draco had written to accompany his exposing gift.

_Dearest Harry,_

_I've been giving a lot of thought as to what my next move might be. I know you must be waiting for some spectacular gesture worthy of someone so –well, to be honest words tend to fail me when I think of you._

_I thought, given your aversion to expensive gifts, that this might be more appropriate. A sort of eye-for-an-eye gesture, which I hope demonstrates that I think more of you than I might have previously let on. _

_All you have to do is think of what you'd like to do to me while concentrating on the doll and whether it's a kiss or a slap in the face, I will feel it. (Though for the record I'm much more partial to the former)._

_Yours,_

_Draco_

Harry chuckled lightly at Draco's note, relishing in the clever wit of the boy who apparently wanted him. After Ron's assessment of Draco's gift and the seemingly genuine words on the page in front of him, Harry felt that it was a distinct possibility that the blonde wasn't trying to prank or humiliate him after all. He desperately wanted to understand the Slytherin better and wished there was a way he could know Draco's motives for certain because even though the clues pointed toward positive ardor, so many years of watching the boy plot and scheme made it hard to believe it unwaveringly.

He even thought briefly of pulling the boy from his Slytherin dorm so that they could have it out right there, and then Harry might know the truth once and for all. Instead he decided to linger on the warm burst of fuzz that had settled over him with Draco's gift and letter. He had a sinking feeling that any encounter just then, with emotions heightened and the lofty expectations Draco might have of him, something could go badly, and either one of them might leave with hurt feelings or more likely things would progress far too quickly. In fact, Harry thought that if he were to see Draco in that moment he might not be able to stop himself from pushing things too far and that was no way to begin a relationship –if one were even to exist between them.

As he thought of the lovely Slytherin and his exposing gift a feeling that he likened to being cuddled in front of a fire and suddenly that was all he wanted. So, with a quick flick of his wand a toasty blaze erupted in the dorm's fireplace and Harry slipped into his bed, holding the doll close to his chest, and slowly fell into a peaceful sleep as he thought of snuggling into Draco's heated embrace.

Authors Note: Draco poppets for all!


	8. Unquestionable Affection

Authors Note: Many thanks to my brilliant beta Laurel (DreamingInColour) who was a driving force in perfecting this story. I Heart Her! Also a thanks to Robert (Ragnarok45) who requested this fic and it served as a very extended birthday present! I think this has been one of my favorite stories to write so far, but I'm afraid this particular journey is over. I adore you all though and promise to keep writing as more ideas pop into my overloaded mind. Oh, also I've been told that it might be appropriate to add a disclaimer to my stories (though it's a tad late for most of you) so here goes: 'This story may, at times, cause you to go through several tissues, to an entire small box of tissues, if read while in a highly motional state of mind. Author not responsible for emotional outbursts, stuffy noses, red eyes, and blubbering. You have been warned.'

Chapter 8 Unquestionable Affection

Draco woke up in one of the best moods he could ever remember being in. All night he felt Harry's arms wrapped tightly around him, keeping him safe and warm, and Draco had never felt so in love with another person.

So natural was the feeling that Draco didn't think twice at the idea of possibly being in love with a boy he had only kissed once. Harry's embrace felt amazing, comforting and blissful all at once, but what had Draco humming all the way to breakfast was the first thing Harry had thought to do with the poppet. It was a magical object so potentially damning that Draco was reluctant to give it over, and Harry simply cuddled it like a child's teddy bear while he slept.

It was precious and innocent and had Draco swooning more than he would have been if Harry had thought of something sexual. It was mildly surprising to feel that way in reaction to Harry's decisions. The Gryffindor was so much the opposite of the people Draco grew up with that he found it slightly hard to understand the other boy's reasoning, but he certainly wasn't adverse to it. The truth of it was that Harry, in all his pure and light intentions, made a perfect counterpoint to Draco's own gruff way of looking at the world. He felt that a relationship with Harry would be a fine balance in comparison to the single-minded life he had without him.

All these newly discovered traits went onto his list that day, making a relationship with Harry seem more and more tangible with each addition. He was finally beginning to feel as though he knew the real Harry better than most could honestly claim.

He studied the list intently and though it was quite helpful in determining what _not _to do to win Harry's affections, it didn't help much for inspiring positive ideas. Every new brainstorm he had would be dashed to pieces when he read one of the items on his list that would contradict it. It hardly mattered what it was, all the pomp and circumstance Draco was used to would clearly never work with Harry.

At first he thought of some grand public display of affection, perhaps standing on a table in the Great Hall in order to declare his adoration of Harry for all to hear. He quickly scratched the idea when he remembered that Harry was a very private person and wouldn't appreciate the declaration one bit, in fact, it's possible he would be so humiliated by it that he wouldn't speak to Draco again.

Expensive gifts were out- Harry couldn't have been clearer on that subject- and Draco assumed that meant the Gryffindor would be equally uncomfortable with a pricey meal at a fancy restaurant, not that there were any of _those_ in Hogsmeade.

It was hardly appropriate to send Harry flowers since that gesture seemed to fit both of the above reasons Harry wouldn't like it; no grand public gestures and no expensive gifts. Surely the arrival of a large bunch of flowers would humiliate him to no end when they arrived in the middle of Gryffindor Tower. Draco considered having them delivered privately but he knew he couldn't very well petition Granger or the Weasel's help in any way since he was fairly certain the duo still loathed him.

It wasn't until later that day, when Draco walked into his dorm to find an unopened note on his bed that the answer finally came to him. It was apparently Harry's reply after receiving the poppet and Draco opened it greedily, eager to read what his Gryffindor had to say.

_Dear Draco,_

_I'm happy to report that I've kept anything unseemly from happening to your gift, though I suppose you already know that. Ron said it must mean that you trust me, and Hermione told about the lily you placed in my doll and what it means that you didn't include one in yours. I'm not sure what to say to that other than the sentiment makes me even more curious about you. _

My life is a circus whether I want it to be or not and I sometimes find myself wondering if I'll ever get a chance to be normal. I liked your gift, Draco, and for the first time I began to wonder if normal might be a tad overrated.

_I'm still worried though. Do you want me for me, or for the image of Harry Potter that everyone has built up in their minds?_

_Waiting,_

_Harry_

The note made Draco slightly weak in the knees as he wondered what it might take to prove to the Gryffindor that he wanted Harry, not just 'Harry Potter'. He certainly wouldn't claim that he never noticed the other side- the side the papers and magazines couldn't get enough of- but he didn't see anything wrong with that. Who else but someone as powerful and important as Harry would be a suitable match for him? And why should either of them have to settle for just one part of Harry when the boy was clearly so much more than that.

Still, it was obvious that Harry didn't want the fame that had carved itself into his forehead and he might never be comfortable with it, which was just as well with Draco. He could be equally content with either fame or secluded leisure as long as he had the reluctant hero at his side.

That was when the idea struck him, an idea so brilliant in its simplicity that he was certain he couldn't bungle it, though, it didn't stop the fairy wings from beating his insides to mush as he thought of executing his newest plan.

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Harry stood at the edge of the still frigid lake just staring along the wide expanse of it. Draco's poppet rested comfortably in his robe pocket and he absently toyed with the strand of blonde hair wrapped around the doll while he thought about his life.

So much had happened in such a short span of time and Harry felt as though his breathing should be heavy from trying to keep up with each new development. Questions bombarded him, one after the other, each more difficult to answer than the last.

Was he really gay? What was the inexorable pull he felt toward Draco? How could a boy he had hated growing up turn out to be what he wanted most of all? He knew the war had changed a lot of people, everyone it touched really, but somehow Harry had never considered the fact that Draco could change so much. Was it really possible that Draco truly cared about him?

Harry closed his eyes against the gentle breeze that pinked his cheeks and expelled a puff of steam into the air as he sighed. None of the questions were easy to ask of himself and he knew that answering them would be more difficult still, unfortunately he also knew that finding those answers without Draco's help would be extremely unlikely.

"That feels nice," a familiar drawl sounded from behind him.

Harry turned around gazed across the grounds at the love interest standing before him and he nearly choked on the word the minute he thought it.

Love. Was that what he felt for his former enemy? Was that even possible? Surely not.

"What does?" Harry asked, confused by the pale blonde's statement. The Slytherin really was a sight to behold standing on the icy grounds that looked every bit to Harry like frosted storm clouds, just like Draco's eyes.

Draco gestured towards his hand, carefully hidden inside his robe pocket and he blushed, realizing that he was still twining the lock of pale hair around his fingers. He pulled his hand away and let it fall to his side, trying to ignore the look of disappointment that flickered through Draco's eyes.

"So," Harry muttered, kicking at the soft ground right in front of his feet. He was suddenly unable to think of anything to say, his nerves were all screaming at him as if they were violin strings being played with a razor. He knew his whole body was shaking slightly from Draco's close proximity and Harry hoped that the Slytherin would attribute it to the chill in the air instead of recognizing how plainly nervous and aroused he was.

I've been thinking," Draco began at last, "for a while actually, about what the best way to convince you of my feelings."

"Oh?" Harry asked, mildly amused at how nervous Draco seemed to be. The idea that he wasn't alone in his turbulent thoughts and feelings calmed him slightly. The blonde was fidgeting more than usual and kept looking at the ground, which on any other student might not be so telling, but on Draco Malfoy they were massive expressions. "And what did you decide?"

The fitful movements stopped all at once and Draco met his gaze directly, looking steeled and determined to complete the task he had set out to do, whatever that task was. The sudden switch made Harry slightly hesitant, wondering what new trick the scheming boy had in store for him.

Draco took a few steps forward so that he was closer to Harry, but not close enough for it to be an invasion of Harry's personal space. He bit into his bottom lip for a fraction of a second before blurting –in a very Harry-like manner- what he had come to say.

"I'd like a date with you," he said at last, the words rushing from his mouth in so much haste that Harry barely caught them.

"Pardon?" Harry asked, genuinely concerned he hadn't heard Draco properly. He thought for sure that Draco was going to pull some elaborate stunt to try and win him over.

"Nothing fancy or terribly exciting," Draco amended. "Just a simple, ordinary date so that we can get to know each other better."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. Of everything Draco could have done, everything he could have said, this -this promise of a normal date- was the only thing he could have done to win Harry over so completely. It showed how much Draco had noticed about him, how much thought he'd given it and how true his feelings were. This wasn't some attempt to further his own popularity or to impress his father or even some cruel joke at Harry's expense.

Draco was genuinely interested in him.

"Well?" Draco asked, his eyes wide with a panic that could only come from fear of rejection and Harry realized he had just been gaping the entire time while Draco waited for an answer.

So he gave him one.

He couldn't help himself as the adrenaline rushed through him and he witnessed Draco standing in front of him anxious and beautiful. Harry kissed him with everything he had and it was a kiss born of good intentions instead of the devious nature he had responded with before.

Draco seemed slightly shocked at first, but he quickly recovered and responded with a groan that shook the both of them. Hands grappled and teeth nibbled and it was generally haphazard and rushed, but Harry had never felt so alive and at peace all at once.

When they broke apart, they were both breathing heavily and Draco's hand rested possessively on Harry's waist. "So was that a yes?" he whispered, his confidence renewed and beaming through his glittering mercury eyes and a subtle smirk playing on his lips.

"Yes," Harry replied, content with how nice Draco felt in his arms. "As long as it's not _too_ ordinary and unexciting," he amended with a smirk of his own.

----------------------------------------------------------

Five Years Later

Harry stared at his overnight bag and wracked his brain trying to remember if there was anything he was forgetting. "Is that it?" he asked out loud when he couldn't think of anything else. He had already packed his muggle suit, his favorite forest green robes, his small bag of toiletries and an extra pair of boxers. The files he needed for the Ministry meeting were in his briefcase by the door and the portkey he would use to get to New York City –a sleek wooden cane- was resting against the entry table.

"Well, you certainly can't fit _me_ in there unless you expand it," Draco muttered. He'd been pouting all morning as Harry rushed around to gather his things. He had procrastinated with it as usual and was now in a bit of a hurry.

"I'm sorry, love," Harry replied and kissed his fiancé warmly on the cheek. "You know I'd bring you along if you could get the time off."

"I think you should call in sick," Draco offered wisely as he lounged against the headboard, watching his fiancé pack and repack his things to squish them all in. For the life of him he would never understand why Harry didn't use magic more often.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "It's not as though I'm going into the office. This is a big meeting, Draco. We're merging the American and European Ministries for the first time ever, besides _you_ were the one who prodded me to accept the position as Minister," he reminded him.

Draco rolled his eyes and opened and closed his hand in a puppet-like movement, teasing Harry for his chatter. "Maybe I've changed my mind then? You should just quit and stay here with me," he told Harry with a petulant pout.

Harry laughed and shook his head. He knew Draco was only joshing because they went through this same charade every time Harry had to go out of town-which wasn't very often. In the end Draco usually took time off from his own job as Potions Master at Hogwarts and came with him, but this time he couldn't because there was no substitute available in the short notice Harry got for this particular trip.

"This is what comes with being Minister. You know that," Harry chided and patted his fiancé playfully on the rear.

"But who's going to help me taste wedding cake sampled and make a decision on flowers?" Draco asked as he looked up at Harry expectantly.

"I'm only going to be gone for two days, Draco. That can all wait until I get back," he replied, not willing to indulge the blonde any further toward that line of argument. "Plus, your mother is picking out the flowers, you told her she could."

"I know," Draco huffed. "What am I supposed to do when I can't sleep tonight because you're not here?"

Harry smiled warmly and ran his hand through Draco's fair locks. He knew it was a special gift to get to see the more fragile and vulnerable side of his fiancé, no one but Harry ever did. To everyone outside their cozy satin covered bedroom, Draco was still a Malfoy, cool and calculating and completely under control. When they were alone however, Draco was warm and loving and even a little needy for Harry's attention.

"I already have a solution for that," Harry remarked. "And as for the rest I suppose you'll just have to show me how much you missed me when I get back," he purred and Draco pulled him down to the bed with an easy fluid movement.

"How about I show you now?" he offered in his most seductive tone.

It was hard for Harry to resist, but he knew he must. He was already late and if he let Draco pull him back into bed he would be hours later still. "I can't," he whined, truly regretful and Draco sighed, falling back to the mattress dramatically.

"Fine, go then," he muttered.

"I love you," Harry said, kissing his lonely looking Slytherin one last time.

"I love you too," Draco whispered, all bitterness fleeing from his voice as he said these words. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, love," Harry replied. "But I think you'll find yourself too busy to miss me much."

With that Harry rushed off and Draco noticed that his fiancé had a slight and unexplained hobble to his left foot, but he brushed it away. Harry was always accidentally injuring himself trying to do some heroic deed or another. Draco lingered in bed until he heard the telltale whoosh of the portkey activating. Eventually he pulled himself out of bed, already missing Harry's warm body beside him, and padded out to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

He was still pondering Harry's cryptic parting words when a shiny red box tied shut with golden ribbon caught his eye. He assumed it was a wedding gift from one of the Weasley's based on the Gryffindor colored wrapping, they loved teasing him about their house rivalries; Harry must have forgotten to mention it in his haste to leave for the States. Draco loved gifts and there it was, sitting on the coffee table just beckoning Draco to come and open it. Normally he and Harry opened their gifts together, but Draco felt that this time Harry might not mind, especially seeing as though Harry was the one who left him all alone to his own devices; he should expect as much.

Teacup in hand, Draco rushed over to the package and looked it over carefully. There was no tag or sticker proclaiming the sender, but it just had to be a Gryffindor based on the garishly obvious color. It was a medium sized box and Draco thought disparagingly of the muggle toaster they had already gotten from Harry's Aunt and Uncle, but it looked a smidge too small to be another one.

Rubbing his hands together like a devious child about to peek at his Christmas gift, Draco untied the ribbon and lifted the shiny red lid.

At first all he saw was tissue paper, but he quickly tossed the crisp white pieces aside and nearly laughed out loud at the contents.

He recognized the poppet he had made of Harry back in school immediately and smiled to himself as he caressed the fibrous torso. Pinned to the doll's left foot was a note in Harry's infamously messy handwriting. He thought briefly to what he had observed that morning with Harry's hobble and made a mental note to lecture Harry on the uses of sharp and pointy objects around a poppet.

The note was as sweet as Harry's always were, and it both warmed Draco and made him miss his lover more all at once.

_My dearest Draco,_

_I knew that resisting a shiny Gryffindor package would be nearly impossible for you and I only hope you didn't battle with yourself for too long over whether or not you should open it (but if I know you well enough I suspect your reading this over your first cup of tea). I miss you already and brought with me a special gift that you once gave to me five years ago, so I thought I'd return the favor. This way neither of us should feel quite as lonely. _

_I love you and I'll see you again before you know it!_

_Love always,_

_Harry_

_P.S. Please refrain from using it for anything unseemly between the hours of six and three. I'll be in and out of meetings with the American Minister's during that time. _

Draco smiled wickedly and looked up at the clock. It would be six in just a few minutes and Draco couldn't wait to break in his poppet again.

FIN

Authors Note: As always I'm available for chat on LJ, Facebook and Myspace or any number of other online venues. If you're not viewing this in a client that offers Author or Story updates, you can join my Yahoo group (link on my profile) and I'll update you personally. I hope this leaves you with warm mischevious fuzzies!


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